The Flight of the Five Swans
by Elysian III
Summary: During a peaceful trip to Deturus, the Kyorian princesses find themselves on the wrong end of enchantment. Pursued by enemies and with all odds against them, it is up to soft-spoken Raia to break the spell placed over her sisters-before she loses them forever. A combination of Swan Lake and the Six Swans, this story is a stand-alone sequel to The Secret of the Seven Princesses.
1. Prologue

**Prologue**

A light drizzle fell as the small but long-awaited delegation entered the spacious palace yard, horses' hooves echoing dully on the wet cobblestones. Despite the weather, all of the castle's inhabitants stood on the steps, waiting to welcome the newcomers.

All inhabitants save one.

From his vantage point on the ramparts of the highest tower, a lone figure watched the milling forms. He was himself motionless but for the fingers of his left hand, madly twisting and spinning a white feather so fast that it blurred. He watched as the delegation far below him came to a stop at the foot of the castle steps. His eyes narrowed as the lead rider threw back her hood, shaking out her mane of tawny curls. The young woman dismounted and then curtseyed deeply to her waiting hosts, untangling the skirts of her riding habit from around her legs with a gesture that was almost impatient.

The feather stilled.

A small smile curled the corners of his mouth, and an almost hungry expression contorted his face. His eyes followed the Kyorian royal ambassador as she was ushered inside out of the elements. Only after she had disappeared from sight did he step back from the edge of the castle wall. He took no notice of the rain, nor of the distant rumble of thunder. His eyes were fixed on the feather in his hand. He twisted his fingers again, but slower this time, making the white plume dance once more.

"And so it begins."


	2. Fear Chapter 1

**Part One: Fear**

Chapter One: Fear

 _Eralie_

Once upon a time in the kingdom of Kyoria, the dinner hour was one to be feared, almost dreaded. Fights were won and lost through the rapid exchange of edible projectiles, and many a garment had been tarnished in the course of battle.

But that was long ago.

And truth be told, Eralie sometimes missed those days, though she was sure that her father did not. Indeed, King Gustave seemed to relish the newfound peace that reigned at the family's evening meals, though one could certainly not call their repasts _quiet_. While the king currently spoke in hushed tones to Prince Ty, Eralie's husband of three years, the other conversations taking place around the dining table ranged as much in volume as they did in topic.

Across the table from Eralie, twenty-three year old Callia spoke in a slightly louder voice than she was wont to, so as to be heard by Eurielle at the end of the table. The youngest daughter at 19, Eurielle was the accepted music aficionado of the group. For the last several weeks, she and Callia had been working together on a musical production for the village theater, with Callia contributing lyrics and Eurielle, the music. Since the start of this newest pet project, even the most mundane conversation with either sister invariably turned to their current work-in-progress. As they were now in the final stages of rewrites, their dinnertime chat was interspersed with hummed or sung snatches of songs, as well as slightly heated debates regarding the exact number of syllables needed in a certain refrain.

The interchange—or _interchanges_ —underway between the sisters sitting at the middle of the table were of an entirely different vein. Twin sisters Thaleia and Raia were talking over each other haphazardly, each using their dinner knives to demonstrate to the other the proper grip to use when holding a paint brush (Raia) and wielding a rapier (Thaleia). Though their exchange was lightning-fast and borderline convoluted, Thaleia was yet able to simultaneously recount the story of her most recent jousting lesson to the sister sitting across from her, 20-year-old Petra. Whether Petra was impressed at Thaleia's ability to maintain two coherent conversations at once was unclear. As always, the stoic expression on her face radiated an apathy that her family had come to expect from her.

Of Eralie's sisters, only Cliodne did not—and could not—contribute to the babble of voices around the dining table, as she was quite simply not present that evening. Though only one year Eralie's junior, 25-year-old Cliodne had already travelled to more neighboring countries than their father; her position as the official Kyorian ambassador required her to spend weeks if not months abroad when discussing the terms of various alliances. She had been negotiating a trade agreement with the kingdom of Deturus, Kyoria's neighbor to the south, for the past year and a half. Though the majority of negotiations had initially been completed via correspondence, Cliodne had been spending the last four months as the honored guest of the Deturian ruler, King Einor, in order to finalize the terms of their agreement.

As if the thought of her absent sister were contagious, Eralie's attention was caught by the low utterance of "Cliodne" mentioned in the conversation between her husband and her father.

Curious, she leaned slightly closer to the two men. She was nearly touching Ty's elbow when he spoke again.

"I can't answer for her, sire. You'll have to ask her. Ask _all_ of them."

"Ask me what?"

Ty jumped slightly at her interjection into their conversation, then chuckled at how close she'd leaned without him noticing. Gustave nodded and cleared his throat, then tapped his fork against the side of his wine goblet. Though the resulting chime was not overly loud, it had the desired effect. The princesses' chattering died down, and they all turned to look at their father with a mixture of surprise and expectation.

Gustave reached into his vest and withdrew a folded piece of paper from his inner pocket.

"I received another letter from Deturus today." He began, and excited whispers broke out around the table. Letters from Cliodne were not only welcomed by the royal family in Kyoria, but were highly anticipated occasions.

"Actually, I received _two_ missives. The first, as you've likely guessed, is from your sister. She writes that the trade agreement is likely to be finalized within the next two months at most."

At the news, wide smiles graced every face, and mini celebrations were had around the table. Callia and Raia high-fived each other while Eurielle clapped her hands several times. Thaleia let out a whoop that was louder than necessary. After nearly two years of work, it was satisfying to have the end in sight.

" _And,_ " Gustave said, raising his voice with an indulgent smile. The table quieted once more. "As for the second letter. King Einor writes to formally invite _all_ of us to the festivities that will be held at the end of two months time in honor of the completed agreement."

If Cliodne's news had been greeted with excitement, then the princesses' response to this announcement was nothing short of enthusiastic. Yet King Gustave had not finished.

"Now, _I_ can't go, what with new... _issues_ arising with Ithcar."

"Nor can I, for the same reason." Ty interjected, glancing meaningfully at Eralie. She frowned slightly. As far as she knew, the king of Ithcar had been threatening war with Kyoria since before she had been born, but thus far they had all been empty threats. Had something changed?

Gustave nodded at his son-in-law. "And for that, I'm grateful. But as for the rest, I shall leave the decision of whether or not to attend to each of you individually."

Not even a moment had passed before Eurielle exclaimed, "Well, I'm in!" Her response was almost immediately echoed by the rest of the younger sisters, who were no doubt picturing grand adventures and fancy balls in a foreign land.

Eralie said nothing. She, too, craved adventure, and she was sure that Deturus held plenty for them all. But the look in her husband's eyes gave her pause. He wouldn't stop her from going, if that was what she truly wanted, but she somehow knew that something more was at play here. _Was_ Ithcar declaring war? Was that the real reason they were being encouraged to leave? She glanced up and found Ty looking at her. One glance into his eyes and her decision was made. Between possible war here with Ty and adventure in Deturus without him, there was no contest.

"We'd best start making preparations for your journey, then." Though Eralie spoke to her sisters, her gaze remained on her husband. "I'm needed here."


	3. Fear Chapter 2

Chapter Two: Fear

 _Cliodne_

"Checkmate."

Cliodne stared at the board in consternation. Back in Kyoria, she had been the undefeated chess master since the age of six. Her sisters had long stopped trying to challenge her, and even Ty hesitated when she invited him to play. Defeat in chess was an unpleasant feeling that she had never really experienced before coming to Deturus.

Correction: She'd never experienced defeat before playing against Soran.

She blew at her bangs and glanced up at her opponent. Lord Soran tossed his white-blond hair out of his eyes and lounged in his chair, a crooked, somewhat cocky smile on his face. As eldest nephew to the as-yet unmarried Deturian king, Soran was King Einor's heir and closest advisor. He had personally taken it upon himself to ensure that Cliodne's stay was both comfortable and productive since her arrival at the palace nearly five months prior. In fact, it was largely due to Soran's natural diplomacy that trade negotiations had been completed so swiftly, as Deturian custom typically did not favor fast action of any kind—though Cliodne herself would not have labeled a two-year endeavor as fast by any means. Soran had become Cliodne's almost constant companion, escorting her on rides through the forest and outlying villages, recommending all manner of books for her to read, and thoroughly thrashing her in their now-daily chess matches.

So maybe he wasn't _entirely_ diplomatic after all.

Cliodne leaned back as well, mirroring Soran's unconcerned position.

"I completely missed that knight." She said ruefully.

Soran began replacing the chess pieces in their proper starting places on the board. "You were too distracted by the queen." His green eyes darted up to meet Cliodne's, holding her gaze a split second more than necessary before glancing back down at his busy hands. Cliodne cocked her head and narrowed her eyes. This wasn't the first time she'd suspected Soran of flirting with her and to be perfectly honest, she didn't know how she felt—nor what to do about it. Eralie had always been the romantic one, or Raia.

"And speaking of queens…" Soran began. Cliodne felt a slight twinge of panic. "Has your sister responded to our invitation yet?"

Cliodne almost laughed out loud. "Well, Eralie's not the queen just yet, though I do believe it's only a matter of time before Father makes it so. But I didn't write to her, I wrote to Father. And no, I've no response from anyone yet."

"Pity."

Cliodne set to work helping Soran set up the pieces for another game. As she contemplated her first move, the door to the drawing room opened and admitted the robust figure of King Einor. Tall yet sturdy, the king of Deturus's implacable expression concealed a heart of gold and deeply generous nature—as well as a rather wicked sense of humor. He was around her father's age, and had been one of Kyoria's closest allies for a number of years.

"I knew I'd find the two of you in here." He boomed, his twinkling eyes making up for the lack of smile gracing his face. "I hope I'm not interrupting."

Cliodne stood and curtseyed. "Not at all, your Highness. Perhaps this is my cue that I've humiliated myself enough for today."

King Einor laughed, a full chortle as robust as he was. Lord Soran merely smiled, and though she knew her joke had been rather weak, Cliodne was disappointed. In five months, she had yet to hear Soran laugh. He smiled, certainly, and his smiles seemed genuine, but she had yet to see anything amuse him even to the point of chuckling.

King Einor was still chortling as he reached into his vest and handed Cliodne an envelope made of heavy parchment. Cliodne knew from where it had originated even before seeing the Kyorian royal seal stamped into the wax.

"It must be my father's response!" she said excitedly, taking the envelope. The temptation to rip it open was great, but Cliodne refrained, calmly accepting the silver letter opener offered by King Einor.

She scanned the contents quickly, highly aware of King Einor and Soran's gazes as she did so. A smile crossed her face.

"Father says that he can't make it—I expected that—but my sisters would like to come!"

King Einor smiled one of his rare smiles, a clear indication that he was happy at the news. Soran seemed to hold his breath a moment, then asked her, "All of them?"

Cliodne glanced at the page again. "Well, Eralie has said she won't be coming, but Father advises us to be prepared to welcome her all the same, as 'things might change'."

Lord Soran chuckled.

Cliodne started, glancing at him in surprise. King Einor didn't seem to think anything amiss. "And welcome them, we shall!"

Soran clapped a hand onto the king's shoulder. "I'll send for a bottle of champagne, shall I? This is a cause for celebration!"

King Einor chuckled, "It's a bit early for champagne, m'boy. It's not past three."

But Soran was not to be deterred. "A glass of wine, then, Uncle! Just enough to make a toast." He strode over to the door to hail a servant and pass along his request. Cliodne folded her letter and tucked it into her sleeve. She would reread it more thoroughly when she was alone.

King Einor turned to Cliodne and clasped her by the shoulders. "Princess Cliodne, I want to thank you personally for all of your hard work. With this new treaty, my people will soon be clothed in the finest fabrics Kyoria has to offer, and your buildings adorned with the loveliest of our Deturian stained glass!"

Cliodne glowed at the praise, and while she knew humility was supposed to be a virtue, she couldn't help feeling proud of their success. She had not had an easy time of it, to be sure. While Kyoria and Deturus had been allies for over a century, the exchange of goods between the two nations had always proven complicated due to the different customs of negotiation. In general, Deturians saw the citizens of Kyoria as impatient and impetuous when it came to trade, while Kyorians felt that those from Deturus were laboriously slow in decision-making. In years previous, negotiating trade agreements such as theirs had always taken a minimum of five years to complete. Yet here they were after less than two years with an agreement that pleased everyone.

Cliodne felt she had good reason to be proud.

King Einor released her and turned to stare at the chessboard and the chess pieces still waiting for the move that Cliodne would no longer be making that day. He picked up the white queen, and rubbed his finger over the face of it.

"You know, Cliodne," he started, "Your father once spent an entire year here in Deturus when we were kids. He was a good friend—still is—and he's a great man. And you're just like him."

He coughed, slightly. Cliodne could not raise her gaze from the white queen in his hand. She felt moved, but also slightly awkward.

"What I'm trying to say is that I'd be proud to count you among my family." The king concluded. Cliodne smiled and clasped his hand—still holding the chess piece—between both of her own.

Lord Soran reentered the drawing room, his crooked smile firmly in place.

Immediately behind him was a manservant holding a tray with a wine bottle and three glasses. Cliodne didn't recognize the servant, which surprised her; she had been studiously attempting to learn the names and faces of all those working in the Deturian palace, and she was disappointed at this sign that she had clearly missed someone—possibly even multiple someones. The man placed the tray on a small side table near the chessboard and moved to pour the wine, but was waved away by Lord Soran. He backed away from the table, but Cliodne noticed that he did not leave the room. Rather, he took a place by the door, standing with his arms behind his back as though guarding it from intruders.

Lord Soran poured the wine himself, filling each glass halfway with the ruby-colored liquid.

"I believe that's more than what we'd need for a toast." Cliodne observed ruefully. King Einor chuckled and nodded at her, but Soran took no notice. He handed two of the glasses to Cliodne and the king before grabbing the third for himself.

Lord Soran raised his glass in the air. "A toast!" He glanced at the two of them, and then back at the silent manservant by the door. "To changing times!"

As Cliodne took a sip, sounds of shouting broke out in the corridor outside, followed by the metallic chime of swords.


	4. Fear Chapter 3

Chapter Three: Fear

 _Callia_

If there was one thing that Callia hated more than anything else in the world, it was packing. True, she didn't need to worry about folding her things, or fitting them in her traveling trunk; Valeria took care of those particular tasks for all of the princesses, and the woman was a genius at it—not to mention a perfectionist. On one occasion, Callia had folded and packed her belongings herself, thinking to save Valeria the trouble. The housekeeper had chucked her under the chin in thanks, only to empty and then repack the trunk when she thought Callia wasn't looking.

After that, Callia left those aspects of packing to Valeria.

Besides, it wasn't the actual packing of her things that bothered Callia, anyway, but rather the task of deciding _what_ to pack. Clothes was one thing, but as far as she was concerned, selecting the books she wanted to bring was the most important aspect of travelling—and the most difficult. No matter how hard Callia tried, limiting herself to just a couple of volumes that would fit into her saddlebags never seemed to get any easier. If anything, she found it harder than ever.

Standing in the library, Callia had already made a small pile of 'possibilities' on the desk behind her—a pile that was slowly becoming taller and taller the longer she browsed.

"Hmmm, there's always duBois' collection of verse." She muttered to herself, taking the volume down off the shelf and leafing through it. "It's been a couple of months since I've read it all through."

Decision made, the book joined its brothers in her pile.

Callia turned her gaze back to the shelf, humming thoughtfully as her fingers caressed the beloved spines. Oh, if only there was a way she could bring them all with her! If only she had a magic book that contained all the stories in the world. It was not the first time this thought had filled Callia's mind, nor would it be the last. Though it seemed impossible, it was a favorite dream of hers to one day find such a volume.

"A priceless treasure." She said dreamily.

Running footsteps sounded from the corridor outside, breaking Callia from her page-filled daydreams. The library doors flew open, and Thaleia appeared, panting slightly.

"You're here." She stated almost accusingly. "Of _course_ you're here, _how_ did I know you'd be _here_?"

Callia stared in bemusement at her sister's flushed face. "I was just selecting my reading material for the trip."

Thaleia huffed impatiently. "Well, there won't _be_ a trip if you don't hurry! We're all ready to leave!"

That shocking statement was enough to snap Callia out of her library-induced fog. "What?" she gasped. "But we aren't leaving until—"

"Ten o'clock!" Thaleia stated, hands on her hips. "Which was _ten minutes ago!"_

Callia started in horror. "But," she said weakly, "but I haven't picked my books yet!"

Thaleia sighed impatiently and stomped to the desk. "These are your options?" she asked, looking through the pile. Callia nodded dumbly. "And how many can you take?"

"Only three." Callia groaned in very real pain.

"Then you'll take this one, and this one and…. _this_ one. Now come on!"

Callia watched, dumbfounded, as Thaleia snatched three volumes at random out of the pile and stuffed them into the bag waiting on the chair. She did not even get the chance to look at the books her sister had selected for her; Thaleia shoved the bag into her arms and then grabbed her hand, pulling her at a half-run out of the library and down the stairs to the middle hall.

The two princesses did not stop moving until they were outside the front doors of the castle. The rest of the royal family was waiting for them in the palace yard, along with twelve mounted guards, all stationed around the Kyorian family carriage. Callia winced to see the enclosed transport. Eurielle had gotten violently ill on the last occasion they had ridden in it. Both Petra's and Callia's good shoes had never recovered, and they'd had to be discarded. Fortunately, the carriage would only be needed on this voyage for luggage transport, as well as possible shelter in cases of acclimate weather. For the most part, the princesses would be riding astride like the members of their mounted escort, all of whom were seasoned travellers highly familiar with the route they were to take.

The guards were also all male, for though a decree had been passed nearly two years prior allowing women to enlist in the royal guard, training for the position took at least four years to complete. As such, none of the women who had since joined the ranks were yet properly trained to serve as escort to the royal family.

"We're here!" Thaleia called out cheerfully. "I found her!"

Raia and Eurielle clapped and cheered. Both were already mounted on their horses, ready to depart. Petra was adjusting the stirrups of her mount, having just bid goodbye to Gustave, Eralie, and Ty.

Callia stepped towards the three being left behind. "Sorry, Father. I lost track of the time."

Gustave chuckled. "I guessed as much. Did you select well?"

Callia nodded, then hesitated. "At least, I think so."

"Then travel well, my bookworm." He kissed her forehead and gave her a squeeze, a sheen of tears in his eyes. She breathed in the familiar woodsy scent of his doublet, committing it to memory

Callia stepped back and turned to Eralie and Ty, throwing her arms around her sister without a moment's hesitation. "I wish you were coming too!" she murmured, and felt, rather than saw, her sister nod.

"I know." Eralie's voice was muffled. "But you'll just have to write, won't you, and tell me all about it? We all know that'll be no sacrifice for you."

"We certainly do. I'm expecting a whole book," Ty joked.

Callia laughed, stepping out of her sister's arms and embracing Ty as well.

Her goodbyes completed, she walked to where her horse stood waiting. A stable boy held onto the reins to prevent the mount from moving suddenly, but this was unnecessary. Azure was a bay gelding that she'd ridden countless times before; he stood still as a rock as Callia stuffed the canvas bag with her books into the saddlebag, and then mounted with no need for assistance.

Seeing the entire party mounted and ready to leave, captain of the guard Alexandre motioned them all forward into a line, leading the way himself. Callia waved goodbye one last time, then nudged Azure's side with her heels so he fell in line with the rest of the horses.

Shortly after leaving the palace gates, Thaleia led her mount to walk beside Callia's, grinning at her excitedly. "And we're on our way! At last! Adventure awaits!"

Callia smiled as well. Thaleia cocked her head a bit, twisting her mouth to the side.

"I'm sorry for pulling," she said, and Callia glanced at her in surprise.

"Oh, my arm?" Callia shrugged. "It didn't hurt. Besides, I needed the push—or pull, really. I could have stayed there for hours!"

Thaleia snorted. "I'll say. You sure didn't notice the rest of us waiting for you."

Callia opened her mouth to apologize, but Thaleia was already shaking her head to forestall her.

"It's okay, really. You think you're the only one who has a hard time picking what to bring along? I swear, it took me three hours last night to settle on my second-best blade. I was afraid of tarnishing my first, or even losing it! And this one's nearly as good, anyway."" She patted her hip, and for the first time Callia noticed the sword attached to her sister's belt. She shouldn't have been surprised; Thaleia had been training in swordplay for years. Still, Callia wasn't accustomed to seeing her sister actually _wearing_ a sword.

 _Adventure awaits._

Thaleia leaned slightly closer to her as if to share a secret, and jerked her head up to where Raia was riding next to Eurielle.

"And Ray has been changing her mind every ten minutes for the last two days. Couldn't decide which of her dresses she wanted to debut—the one she made or the _other_ one she made."

Raia's voice drifted back to them. "I heard that."

Callia laughed, and Thaleia joined in rather sheepishly.

It was only after they had been riding for well over an hour that Callia realized she had yet to look at the books Thaleia had grabbed for her. She knotted Azure's reins and wedged them behind the saddle horn, confident that he would continue following the horse in front of him. Twisting in her saddle, she pulled the books from the saddlebag and read the titles. There was the duBois volume of poetry, as well as a collection of one-act plays that she'd read at least ten times, and a book on edible plants and fungi that she'd been intending to study for ages.

"Hmm. Not bad." Perhaps letting Thaleia pick her books at random was the packing strategy she'd needed all along.


	5. Fear Chapter 4

Chapter Four: Fear

 _Thaleia_

The forest trail was not the quickest route to take to reach the border between Kyoria and Deturus, but it was guaranteed to be the most peaceful, as well as the safest. There had been little to no reports of banditry along this path for the past decade, possibly because of its veritable disuse. It passed through no major towns or villages, meaning that any travellers taking this route could not count on replenishing their supplies or finding comfortable accommodation along the way.

Nevertheless, this was the path chosen for the Kyorian party to travel. As theirs was a relatively small company sporting only twelve mounted guards in addition to the five princesses, the captain of the guard had decided to forego comfort for safety. This decision was unanimously corroborated by the princesses themselves, Thaleia foremost among them. She and her sisters all rather naively welcomed the idea of sleeping under the sky and eating around an open fire, thinking it to be a grand adventure.

"We're like rangers!" Thaleia had enthused to her sisters on only the second day of their voyage. The princesses rode together in pairs in the very center of the company, Thaleia and Raia in front, followed by Callia and Eurielle, with Petra bringing up the rear.

"Or Robin Hood." Petra said with more eagerness than she was wont to show.

"But without stealing from anyone," Eurielle added with a laugh. Petra didn't respond, and Thaleia shot her a suspicious look. She made a mental note to check that all of her belongings were present and accounted for once they had stopped for the night.

"It'll be great research for my next story!" Callia mused and with that, she was off, talking a mile a minute and explaining her ideas for plot and characters. The other sisters listened eagerly, occasionally making suggestions. After awhile, Callia rifled in her saddlebag for a quill and parchment to write down some of their new ideas and thus distracted, their discussion petered out.

For the first five days of their voyage, the princesses maintained this routine of riding together during the day. Thaleia broke their custom midway through the sixth day. Having seen a set of animal tracks on the side of the path that neither she nor her sisters recognized, she fell back to ask one of the soldiers if he could identify the animal. As the guard had not noticed the prints at the time, she used one of Callia's quills to scratch out a sketch of the markings she'd seen onto her hand. He also was ignorant as to the animal that had made them, but he pointed her in the direction of Alexandre, who had been trained as a ranger prior to joining the ranks of the Kyorian royal guard. The captain of the guard was able to immediately identify the tracks as belonging to a badger. Afterwards, Thaleia took to riding next to Alexandre in order to pick his brain about different tracks they saw throughout the day. She also asked him on several occasions to draw the tracks of animals that they _might_ see, so that she would recognize them should they actually come across them in reality.

Following this breach, the rest of the princesses no longer lingered in exclusivity, either. Callia had fished out the book she'd brought detailing the edible properties of certain flora, and attempted to spot real-life samples of the pictures in the surrounding environment. Though this challenge initially began as a solitary activity, it was not long before Raia offered her services as tutor to her elder sister. The resident green thumb among the princesses, Raia was familiar with the majority of the plants for which Callia was searching, and was easily able to point them out when they were in sight. Two of the guards riding around the sisters, Killian and Niall, were pulled into the lessons as well, which turned the task of finding each new plant into a sort of game.

Eurielle and Petra, on the other hand, both took a leaf out of Thaleia's book and attached themselves to different members of the royal guard for one-on-one instruction. Eurielle's chosen tutor was a middle-aged man named Baelor, who was as well versed in identifying the sounds of animals as Alexandre was in recognizing their markings. As an added bonus, Baelor was no stranger to the endless barrage of questions Eurielle asked him, being himself the father to three girls under the age of fifteen. Thaleia and the rest of the princesses had already proclaimed themselves to be in veritable awe of the man's endless patience with their youngest sister.

Petra, however, had taken to riding in the very back of the party with Osric, an older member of the guard who had previously worked as a trapper in his youth. As cheerful and garrulous as Eurielle, Osric was the last person that Thaleia would have expected to become Petra's chosen riding companion. He was forever telling stories of his past, and he spent endless hours explaining in vivid detail the different traps that he had used for each kind of animal, as well as how to go about setting them. Thaleia marveled internally as Petra voluntarily rode beside him day after day, seemingly content just to listen to his long-winded accounts.

It wasn't until they had been on the road for nearly a fortnight that Petra's true motivation was finally revealed. When making camp after their twelfth day of travelling, Thaleia stumbled onto Petra kneeling just outside of the opening to the tent that she shared with Eurielle. Petra's hands were busy tying a piece of rope into a series of complicated knots, and Thaleia had a jolt of realization. A rustling confirmed that their youngest sister was currently inside the tent, which all but confirmed Thaleia's suspicions. Clearly, Petra was setting one of the traps described by Osric as an attempted prank on Eurielle. Thaleia was torn. Should she stop Petra? Warn Eurielle?

Seeming to sense her gaze, Petra looked up and saw her watching. She raised one finger to her lips in a 'shhh' gesture. Thaleia's decision was made. Smiling slightly, she hurried to join the rest of the party around the campfire, where they sat awaiting that night's dinner. Petra arrived moments later, and Thaleia could only assume that the trap had been set.

Suddenly, a slight shriek sounded from the direction of Eurielle's tent, followed by the muffled thump of a person falling. Raia, Callia, and several of the guards stood and looked curiously in that direction. Petra sat calmly, seemingly unconcerned at the commotion. Thaleia tried desperately to keep a straight face—a task that became even more difficult when Eurielle stomped into view. The front of her dress was littered with smudges of dirt and leaves, the two largest stains indicating the places where her knees had evidently hit the ground. She stopped at the edge of the circle and placed her hands on her hips, her eyes sparking in anger.

"Petra!" she wailed, and Thaleia couldn't hold it in any longer.

She laughed.


	6. Fear Chapter 5

Chapter Five: Fear

 _Raia_

Throughout the two weeks that the Kyorians had been travelling, Raia had been picturing the border between Kyoria and Deturus as a raging river over which a glorious golden bridge was built. The Deturian side of the bridge would of course be drastically different from Kyoria's green trees and foliage, though Raia hadn't yet decided on exactly _how_ the environment would inevitably change. At certain moments, she pictured glorious golden sands stretching as far as the eye could see. At others, she was certain they would find steep mountains covered in snow all year round, not excluding the summer months.

But the border was nothing like Raia had pictured, and truth be told, she was disappointed. There was no river, no bridge, and certainly no radical change in scenery. In fact, there wasn't much change in scenery at all. Raia highly doubted that she—or _any_ of her sisters—would have noticed that they were even crossing the border had not Alexandre seen fit to point it out. He reined in the company just long enough to show them a solitary tree on the edge of the path. On one side of the tree was carved _Kyoria_ and on the other side, _Deturus._

"That's it?" Thaleia blurted out, sounding just as disappointed as her twin. The guards laughed, as did Callia, who had clearly been more informed than her younger sisters as to the markers—or lack thereof—that would be used to indicate the border.

Still chuckling, Alexandre explained. "You must remember, your Highness, that this path is not often used. The main road does, of course, have a sign indicating where Kyoria ends and Deturus begins, but such a luxury would be rather ridiculous here, as this secluded area is seen by less than a dozen travellers a year."

Thaleia shrugged as the company moved forward once again. Raia could tell that her twin was still a little let down, and she couldn't blame her. Up until three years ago, none of the seven princesses had ever ventured much further than the village nearest the Kyorian royal palace, as their father simply hadn't allowed it. Though Gustave had since become much less strict about his daughters' travelling liberties, the opportunity to visit a foreign nation had thus far not arisen for any of the princesses save the two eldest. This was the first time the younger sisters had traveled outside Kyoria's borders, and truth be told, Raia had been expecting more fanfare at the occasion.

Eurielle leaned over to Raia as if to tell her a secret, only to speak in a normal voice. "I asked Baelor, and he told me that we'll be intersecting the main road in just a couple of days and we'll turn onto it then. But we still won't hit any towns or villages until another three weeks, Baelor says. Oh, and we'll get there in about a month, did I tell you that?"

Raia smiled. "'There' being the Deturian palace, I presume?"

"Didn't I say that? I thought I said that."

Raia shook her head in cheerful exasperation. Eurielle seemed about to say something more when she was distracted by the sound of a distant birdcall echoing through the forest. She gasped and kicked her horse into a trot, leaving Raia behind in order to join Baelor near the front of the company. Raia could hear her calling out ahead of her, "A lark! Am I right? It was a lark! Baelor, did you hear it?"

Raia reined in her horse a bit, allowing Callia to catch her up. As usual, Callia was staring intently around at the forest undergrowth—an action, Raia noticed, that was also being copied by Killian and Niall, the guards who rode almost directly behind her.

"There's one!" Killian suddenly cried, a huge smile on his weathered face as he pointed. Niall groaned, while Callia checked the image of the plant in the book to see whether Killian was correct. Raia followed their gaze, immediately recognizing the indicated plant: amaranth. Definitely edible.

Callia nodded, and Niall groaned again. Another plant was chosen and the game began again, this time with Raia joining in as well.

Over the next couple of weeks, Raia found herself marking their progress through the now-Deturian forest according to the species of flora included in their game. In Kyoria, it had always been laughably easy to identify chicory, curled dock, or amaranth, whereas it had often taken them hours to spot a single sprig of burdock or sorrel. However, the further into Deturus they travelled, the more Raia saw the latter two species in the surrounding foliage. She had also started to see several plants that she was unable to recognize at all, forcing her to consult Callia's book in an attempt to identify them.

"The trouble is," she complained to Callia as she leafed through the pages one evening, "if the plant isn't edible, but also isn't _terribly_ poisonous, it's nowhere to be found in here!"

Callia clucked sympathetically and patted her shoulder. "Believe me, I understand the frustration. But we should be passing through a town in the next couple days. You might be able to find someone there you can ask."

Raia was already planning on doing just that. She had started to keep a list of the plants she would have to ask about, writing down descriptions and sometimes sketching their appearances. Still, she continued turning the pages, straining to see the images by the light of the dancing fire.

"I'd rather not wait, if it can be helped." she said, then huffed in frustration as she reached the last page. She slammed the volume shut. The noise startled Eurielle, who sat on the other side of the fire.

"This book is useless." Raia said, handing it back to Callia. "Why didn't you grab something more…I don't know…comprehensive?"

Callia laughed slightly as she packed the volume away again. "Blame Thaleia for that."

"Blame me for what?"

As if summoned by the mention of her name, Thaleia appeared out of the shadows. She perched on the log beside Raia and looked around brightly at her sisters. Raia nudged her with her elbow.

"Nothing, really. Where have you been?"

Thaleia waved her hand dismissively, "Oh, just telling the Captain about something strange I found earlier."

"Strange? What's strange?" From her seat next to Eurielle, Petra leaned forward curiously.

Thaleia's eyes sparkled mischievously. Her voice dropped slightly, forcing them all to lean in closer to hear.

"Early this morning, as we were all packing up camp, I scouted around to make sure no one had forgotten anything. And that's when I saw them."

"Saw what?" Eurielle whispered. Raia rolled her eyes, more at Thaleia's flair for drama than Eurielle's question. Clearly, Callia was not the only princess who fancied herself a storyteller.

Thaleia's voice dropped even lower. "There were tracks just under the treeline, bigger than any I've seen—almost the size of my hand." She held up the mentioned appendage as demonstration. "They were clear as can be—and fresh, too. No more than an hour old, at most. As if the animal had _stood_ there…and _watched_ us…while we slept."

Raia was sure that the pauses in the story had been strategically timed for dramatic effect—and it was working. Thaleia's face looked ghastly in the firelight, adding to the spooky ambience that she had already created. Eurielle shivered, and she wasn't the only princess to do so. Of them all, only Petra seemed unaffected by the story.

"The tracks were from an animal I hadn't seen before." Thaleia continued. "And when I asked Alexandre what had made them, he was surprised. He told me that this creature must have travelled from far, far away to watch our camp last night."

Raia caught her breath as Thaleia leaned forward even further, her voice now just above a whisper.

"They were the tracks of…a _swan_."

Eurielle shrieked, more out of expectation than fear, then caught herself as comprehension sunk in at last. "Wait, what?"

Thaleia was already laughing almost too hard to respond, and it only took a moment for Petra to join in. Raia and Callia both left out almost identical sounds of half-exasperation, half-relief.

"Your _faces_!" Thaleia choked out between giggles. Raia shoved her a bit, and she had to catch herself before she fell off the log.

It took awhile for Thaleia to stop laughing, and even longer for Raia's heartbeat to return to normal. Eurielle caught Callia's sleeve just as the sisters were turning in for the night, and Raia distinctly heard her ask, "You're not writing that down, are you?"


	7. Fear Chapter 6

Chapter Six: Fear

 _Petra_

On the final morning of their six-week voyage, Petra was woken quite suddenly from a deep sleep by the sound of a cacophonous commotion just outside of the camp. What seemed like all of the horses in their party were whinnying frantically, as though they were being led straight into the jaws of wolves.

"It's settled. Someone's dead meat." Petra grumbled angrily under her breath, grabbing her dressing gown from beside her bedroll and donning it. A low groan came from the other side of the tent. Rubbing her eyes, Eurielle sat up, her blonde hair tangled around her head like a bird's nest.

"Whassamatta?" She yawned, blearily looking around.

Petra's only response was to throw Eurielle's own dressing gown towards her, a silent command for her sister to rise and check out the commotion for herself. Not bothering to linger and see whether Eurielle had taken the hint, Petra opened the tent flap and stepped outside.

She and Eurielle had not been the only ones disturbed by the horses. Callia, Raia and Thaleia emerged from their tents as well, all shivering slightly from the early morning chill. Several guards rushed to check on the horses. Most of them still wore their nightshirts with trousers hastily pulled on over them. From the position of the sun, Petra guessed the time to be not long after dawn. Had it not been for the interruption, she could have slept for at least another hour before they resumed their journey.

'Yeah, I'm definitely killing someone.' She thought fiercely.

Behind her, Petra heard the tent flap open as Eurielle exited. The five princesses stood together in sleepy silence, watching the activity around them. After minutes that felt like hours, Alexandre finally approached. Unlike some of the other guards, the captain was already fully dressed and seemingly ready for their final day of travel. He gestured apologetically to where the horses had been tethered for the night.

"I'm sorry, Your Highnesses. It seems something bothered the horses, though I don't know yet what that could have been. MacLeary was on guard duty, but one of the mounts pulled loose from its tether, and he had to go after it. We'll get his full report when he returns."

Petra yawned, then stuffed her hands into the pockets of her dressing gown, irritated. "So, you have _no thoughts at all_ on who's to blame for spooking the horses?" Hearing the hint of accusation in her voice, Raia shot her an exasperated look.

The captain shook his head. "As I've said, I hope MacLeary's report will shed some light on what actually happened. For now, you can all return to your tents if you like and get some more sleep. We won't be packing up to leave for another couple of hours."

Petra thought longingly of her bedroll, but then banished the thought. She was up now, for better or worse. Callia shook her head and shrugged.

"Thank you, Captain, but I believe we're all thoroughly awake now. And who knows? Now we're up, we might be able to get an early start on the day once we're all ready, and arrive that much sooner."

Alexandre nodded in approval. "I'll tell the cook to start breakfast."

Despite the intention to gain an early start, their scout did not return with the missing horse until well after they were meant to have been on the road. Shortly after MacLeary's arrival back at the camp, the captain of the guard once again sought out the princesses.

"Nothing to worry about, Your Highnesses." He reassured them. "According to MacLeary, there wasn't much of anything to report. Just some swan that got under the horses' feet. "

Thaleia glanced at Eurielle, the slightest hint of a grin on her face. Seeing the movement, Petra recalled the story her sister had told them a week prior. Two crazy swans in the course of two weeks? It was really quite a coincidence.

Alexandre glanced up at the sky, his brow furrowed. "We'll be mounting up now. We'll arrive a bit later than anticipated, but we can still get there before dark."

Petra was not in the best mood as she mounted her horse and joined the other travellers trotting out of camp. She had wanted someone to blame—an actual _person_ —for her untimely awakening that morning. Blaming an animal wasn't nearly as satisfying. You couldn't play a prank on them, or permanently confiscate their favorite hairbrush. In fact, as far as Petra could see, there was no viable way to get back at them at all. And that, she felt, was a definite problem.

Her mood improved as they rode. She couldn't help it—the anticipation of their arrival could not help but raise her spirits. Just before midday, the Deturian palace came into view. Her sisters cheered at the sight and while Petra did not join in with their celebrations, she was thrilled all the same. After six long weeks on the road, the end of their journey was finally in sight.

The last few hours of travel were spent weaving in and out of small towns that got progressively larger the closer they came to the castle. Many of the townspeople gawked as they passed, and the youngest Deturians waved gleefully at the procession. The princesses waved back, though some more exuberantly than others. At one point, Eurielle nearly fell off her horse in her enthusiasm, and had to be pushed aright by Petra, who was riding beside her at the time.

As Alexandre had predicted, the company entered the gates of the Deturian palace just as the sun was setting on the horizon. Petra looked around with interest as they rode into the palace yard. The yard was expansive, with hedges running to either side of the path they followed. To the left of the path was a dense grove of trees, as though a mini forest had been planted solely at the whim of the Deturian royal family. On the right side, Petra saw a large pond, its surface dark and glassy. She was surprised to see guards stationed all around the edge of the body of water. She snickered a bit. What could they possibly be guarding? The fish?

The castle itself was slightly bigger than their palace in Kyoria, and it was imposing to the extreme. The gray stone was weathered and had clearly survived many a thunderstorm, and possibly a siege or two. Out of habit more than anything else, Petra immediately started looking for weak points that one might exploit should they want to enter secretly—purely hypothetically, of course. Though there was little to be seen at first glance, she was certain of her abilities to uncover some—if not _all_ —of the castle's secrets before long.

Adding to the imposing impression of the Deturian palace was the welcoming committee waiting to greet them. As far as Petra could see, all but one were royal guards, facing each other in two straight lines all the way up the steps. At the very top was a young man with a wide smile gracing his boyish face. He was tall and blond, and Petra knew immediately that this must be the Lord Soran that Cliodne had mentioned in her letters. She frowned. Now she thought of it, where was Cliodne? Petra had fully expected her elder sister to be among those present to welcome their arrival.

Lord Soran held his arms open in front of him as though to embrace them all from afar.

"Welcome, princesses of Kyoria!" He said, slowly descending the stairs towards them.

Alexandre held up one hand, and the entire Kyorian company came to a stop directly in front of the steps. The princesses were the first to dismount, and they waited for their escort to do the same before advancing.

Lord Soran didn't stop until he was standing right in front of them at the bottom of the stairs. He bowed. "Your Highnesses, it is my honor to welcome you to Deturus. I'm Lord Soran."

As one, the princesses curtseyed. The eldest of those present, Callia stepped forward in front of the rest to present herself as spokes-princess. She presented her hand, and Lord Soran kissed it.

"We are gratified to be here, Lord Soran," she said after introducing each of them in turn. Petra hid a smile. She was sure that Callia's choice of words had been lifted straight from one of her many stories. "But I must admit, I had expected Cliodne to be here to see us as well."

Lord Soran's smile grew wider, and Petra felt a stab of apprehension that she couldn't explain.

"Your sister insisted on being the one to oversee the preparation of the bed chambers for your arrival." He said.

"Can we see her now?" Eurielle piped up, and Thaleia nudged her with her elbow.

Lord Soran glanced almost nervously at the sun, which was now completely hidden by the horizon but for a small sliver of gold. "If you like, I can take you straight to her."

Petra was the first to notice the animal flying towards them, a speeding patch of white out of the corner of her eye. With an exclamation of surprise she ducked, pulling Raia and Eurielle down with her. A large swan swooped down directly above their heads, banking around before landing in the pond with a loud splash. Mouths agape, the princesses stared at the bird, the largest of its kind that they had ever seen.

And then, before their very eyes, the swan changed. The head tripled in size, corkscrew curls growing out of it like ivy. Wings stretched, becoming long and thin, while the swan's legs thickened and grew. The white feathers ruffled, then melded together into what looked very much like fabric.

In less than a minute, the swan had disappeared entirely. In the middle of the pond was a young woman as familiar to the princesses as their own names. She lurched out of the water and attempted to reach them.

"It's a trap!" Cliodne shouted.


	8. Fear Chapter 7

Chapter Seven: Fear

 _Eurielle_

For a moment, Eurielle stopped breathing entirely. Then she gasped as pandemonium erupted in the courtyard. Lord Soran yelled, "Guards!", and the two columns of Deturian soldiers rushed down the palace steps to attack the small band of Kyorians. Drawing their swords, the Kyorian guards sprang into action to meet the assault. Osric and another guard ran to where Cliodne was still attempting to reach her sisters. Though she struggled valiantly, her efforts were impeded by the five men who had been stationed around the pond, two of whom had already caught her by the arms. The remaining ten Kyorian guards situated themselves with their backs to the other five princesses, forming a ring of protection around them.

The palace yard filled with the sound of steel meeting steel as the Deturians pressed forward, trying to break into the circle. Vastly outnumbered, the Kyorians were forced to battle multiple opponents at once. Eurielle saw that many had already sustained minor injuries in the process, and some sported wounds that looked much more serious.

Niall had been cut across his brow, and the opening rained blood down his face and into his eyes, obstructing his vision. He cried out in pain as a sword slashed at his arm, releasing another stream of red. Eurielle squealed as her friend Baelor narrowly avoided a cut to the head as well, only for him to be sliced in the side by a different enemy altogether. Though his face contorted in pain, Baelor fought doggedly on, one hand pressed firmly to this new wound.

Alexandre was forced to switch his sword to his left hand after a well-positioned attack put his right arm out of commission; his sleeve was already dark with blood. Rather than weakening him, however, this injury seemed to give him an added strength born out of anger. He struck out with his sword, cutting one of his opponents down with a well-positioned swipe. Despite the seemingly endless barrage of enemies, the Kyorians were maintaining their protective positions around the princesses. But seeing the sheer number of Deturians surrounding them, Eurielle was convinced that this would not last.

Killian was the first to fall. Eurielle looked on in utter shock as he crumbled lifeless at her feet, the front of his tunic stained with the last of his lifeblood. Frozen in place, she could only watch with wide eyes while the Deturian soldier yanked his sword free from Killian's still form and moved to press his advantage into the breach towards her. Suddenly, Thaleia was there, her own sword clanging as it struck against the enemy soldier's blade. She had been training almost nonstop for the last several years to prepare for such a conflict. Yet despite knowing this, Eurielle still found herself in awe of her sister's surprising skill with a blade.

Petra was right behind her fighting sister, holding a small but evil-looking dagger. Her expression as sharp as her blade, she jabbed the blade forward with startling accuracy considering its diminutive size. As someone who was more often than not on Petra's bad side, Eurielle recognized the fierceness in her sister's eyes, and almost pitied the men who would cross her.

Suddenly, Lord Soran's voice rang over the battle, "Do not harm the women! I need them alive!"

The shouted command snapped Eurielle out of her daze like nothing else had.

Soran wanted to take them alive?

 _Over her dead body._

Cursing herself for not having a weapon readily available like her sisters, Eurielle knelt down and quickly removed first her left boot, then her right. Gripping both of them tightly in her hands, she stood upright again. The circle of guards had tightened around them as more of their men had fallen. Seeing Baelor's body among them, Eurielle felt a stab of grief.

'He has three daughters,' she thought numbly, and she lashed out with her boots, suddenly more furious than she'd ever been before. She swung her boot around at the first person she saw, which fortunately was a Deturian soldier and not a fellow Kyorian. Her makeshift club connected squarely with the side of the man's head, and he grunted as he stumbled backwards. Eurielle struck again and again at different targets, slowly gaining more control over her flinging footwear to avoid hitting the allies around her.

And then suddenly, Eurielle realized that she and her sisters were the only ones left still standing against the Deturians. All twelve members of the Kyorian royal guard—the men who had protected them, taught them, eaten with them and laughed with them—now lay on the ground, motionless in death.

Half-blinded by tears, Eurielle screamed and swung her arms madly around, striking the enemy left and right. She had none of Thaleia's training or Petra's precision, but what she lacked in skill, she made up for in pure fury. The Deturian guards, she realized, were now at a slight disadvantage in spite of their numbers. According to Soran's orders, she and her sisters were not to be harmed. The soldiers had orders to capture them, not to kill them.

The princesses were under no such constraint.

Thaleia and Petra had positioned themselves to fight back to back. Thaleia's standard ponytail was falling out, leaving sweaty strands of hair hanging all around her face. Her jaw was clenched as she thrust out with her sword, not faltering for a single moment. Petra was still fighting with her dagger, but had also gained a sword as well. Though slightly clumsy with the longer blade, she nevertheless avoided the enemy's grasp, successfully keeping them from getting any closer than a couple feet away. The tips of both of her blades were covered with blood, which looked almost black in the moonlight.

Callia had clearly had a similar idea to Eurielle in regards to a makeshift weapon, though Eurielle was shocked to see that she had chosen one of her oh-so-precious books to use to clobber the guards, rather than her shoes. Still swinging her footwear at any and all approaching soldiers, Eurielle slowly moved so that she stood back to back with Callia, thinking to imitate Thaleia and Petra's fighting position. Her arms ached, but she continued fighting all the same.

"Stop!"

Startled, Eurielle looked and saw Lord Soran once again at the top of the stairs…with Raia. A smirk on his boyish face, he stood holding a wickedly sharp knife to Raia's throat. Behind the pair, no less than four Deturian guard held Cliodne captive. The guards' faces were scratched and bleeding from Cliodne's fingernails—testaments of her vicious attempts to avoid being recaptured. As for Raia, her hands scrabbled uselessly in an attempt to try and break Soran's vice grip, and her face was white with fear. Her eyes darted around, searching frantically for a way to escape.

"Now if the rest of you would kindly drop your… _weapons,"_ Soran drawled, sounding slightly amused. His eyes lingered on Eurielle's boots. "We can all go inside for a nice, long chat."

Eurielle hesitated, as did her older sisters. She was willing to bet that they were all thinking the same thing she was: Soran had said that he needed all of them alive. Could he be bluffing?

Lord Soran seemed to understand the reason for their indecision. He tightened his grip on Raia and moved the knife so that it touched the side of her neck just under the chin. "It's true that I need you all alive," He said, his voice sounding all the more sinister for its cheerfulness. "But as for _unharmed,_ well…I'm a little more flexible about that request." Soran pressed the knife into Raia's neck, and a thin line of blood appeared. Feeling the painful prick of the knife's edge, Raia whimpered in terror.

"All right!" Callia called, holding up her hands and letting her book fall to the ground. Thaleia and Petra let drop their weapons as well, Thaleia growling in frustration and fury as she did so. Her eyes, wet with unshed tears, were fixed on the knife at Raia's throat, and her face mirrored the pain in her twins'. Eurielle could have sworn that Thaleia, too, felt the sting of the blade on her neck.

Defeated, Eurielle let her aching arms fall to her side. The boots dropped out of her fingers, each hitting the ground with a muffled thud.


	9. Fear Chapter 8

Chapter Eight: Fear

 _Cliodne_

Cliodne nearly screamed in frustration when, instead of being shown to the throne room, she and her sisters were shoved through the door of her old bedchamber. While she didn't relish facing Lord Soran again, she also suspected that the next time she did, she'd get some answers. It galled her that he would dare make them— _her_ —wait.

The bedchamber door slammed shut behind them. Thaleia launched herself at the heavy wood, yanking at the handle in an attempt to force it open once more. When that didn't work, she tried ramming the door with her shoulder, only to stop after three solid hits.

"Ow," she muttered, rubbing her now-aching limb.

"That won't work, Thaleia." Cliodne said heavily. Her sisters turned to look at her, as though noticing for the first time that she was there. Their eyes widened as they took in every aspect of her appearance. None of them had been given an opportunity to change before being so unceremoniously dumped into the room, and Cliodne was certainly worse for the wear. Her dress—once sunset-orange—was colored green from the pond algae through which she had waded. The bottom half of the fabric was still drenched with pond water, and the material was ripped and torn.

With a sob, Eurielle flew into Cliodne's arms, followed closely by the other princesses. Cliodne's five sisters all clambered to embrace her in their turn. They looked nearly as bad as she did. Their clothes, already dusty from the road, were now splattered with small specks of blood from the battle. Eurielle was barefoot, having been forced to leave her boots behind in the courtyard. Her stockings were ripped and stained to above the ankle.

Petra was the last to embrace Cliodne. When she stepped back, Cliodne saw a determined look in her younger sister's eyes. "You said it wouldn't work to force the door." There was a hint of a question in her statement. Cliodne shook her head in response.

"I've forgotten how many times I've tried, but it's dead bolted from the outside." She sighed, and then jerked her head to the window. "And the windows are barred as well."

"They've been keeping you prisoner this whole time?" Eurielle gasped, but Cliodne shook her head once more.

"No, not at all! It wasn't until…" Her voice broke as memories— _terrible_ memories—flew before her eyes. Her legs seemed to lose all their strength, and she sat down heavily on the four-poster bed.

For a moment, her sisters were at a loss as to what to do. Cliodne was often the strong one, the sturdy one. Never before had they seen her look so haunted. Finally, Callia sat next to her on the bed and placed one hand gently over her sister's.

"What…happened?"

Cliodne looked at her. She choked back a sob. "He…he _killed_ him."

The other sisters glanced at each other, then Thaleia took a guess. "Lord Soran? He killed King Einor?"

Cliodne nodded. Petra knelt down in front of her. "But…why would he do that? He was heir, wasn't he?"

Cliodne shuddered. "I don't know why he did it. He _was_ Einor's heir. He would have been king, anyway! But..." she said, and looked up at her sisters, fear and confusion blatant in her eyes. "But I think it has something to do with us."

Raia stepped back, one hand clutching her throat. "Us? What could he want with us?"

Cliodne shrugged her shoulders helplessly. "I don't know!" she cried. "But it was right after…we'd only just…" and her voice broke off.

The grip on her hand tightened slightly, but her sister's voice was still calm when she spoke.

"Tell us everything."

Cliodne clutched Callia's hand between both her own like a lifeline. She drew strength from the warmth it provided, and her voice held only a slight tremor.

"He'd been planning it for awhile, I think—it all happened so fast. We'd just gotten word that you were all coming, and Soran suggested making a toast. He left the room for—it was just a couple minutes! But I think that he sent a message or gave a sign of some sort, because all of a sudden there was fighting in the corridor. The king…King Einor…he drew his sword, too. And he stepped in front of me and faced the door, and then…"

She took a deep, shuddering breath to steel herself. "And then Soran's blade…it was sticking out of him. I…the king wasn't prepared at all. He'd been ready to defend against someone coming into the room. But he didn't know…neither of us imagined the enemy was already _in_ the room."

"Coward." Thaleia's voice was a low growl. Though the sound reverberated through Cliodne's brain, she could barely comprehend its meaning. Her eyes stared distantly into empty space, remembering the past horrors from the tale she was recounting.

"And then guards were in the room and I thought that they'd arrest Soran, but they didn't! He just stood over the king's body…and then…he wiped his sword on him, to clean it!"

Her sisters all gave muffled sounds of outrage at that. Cliodne continued.

"And then he told the soldiers to take me to my room, to _here…_ and he would call for me shortly."

The other princesses drew in a quick breath. Then Petra asked, "Did he… _hurt_ you?", her voice far gentler than any of the sisters were wont to expect from her.

Cliodne shook her head and for the first time, relief colored her words. "No, nothing like that. There was a time when I _thought_ he might…when I thought he _felt_ …but no. He just asked me questions, so many questions—about us." She gestured around her at the six of them.

"Before, when he…when I…before _that,_ he'd always seemed so eager when I told him stories about us. I…I just thought that he was interested in hearing about my— _our_ —childhood. But now, he was _obsessed_. As though he was _looking_ for something. He would send for me every evening for dinner, and all through the meal, he would interrogate me. He'd ask me about the seven of us, what we were like, what our skills were…" She straightened her shoulders. "But I never answered him. After the first couple of days, I just…stopped talking to him altogether. And then a couple weeks ago, he lost patience. He stormed from the table, and I thought he'd finally given up.

"But then he sent for me again, right before dawn. I wasn't even allowed to dress, I was just dragged straight out of bed to the throne room. And Soran was there. He was holding a book, thicker than any I'd ever seen, and red as blood. And he said that maybe he'd been making things too comfortable for me here. That perhaps I'd be more willing to answer his questions if some things… _changed_."

"And that's when he turned you into a swan?" Eurielle's hands flew to her mouth.

Cliodne nodded, and her sisters moaned in unison. A kingslayer _and_ a sorcerer? Cliodne understood their dismay better than any of them.

"As a swan, I was allowed to leave my room, and even leave the castle." She nodded towards them all. "I even found your campsite a couple times. I was desperate to warn you all, but I couldn't find any way of telling you there was danger. I tried to spook your horses so they'd run away and buy more time to figure something out. Nearly got trampled in the process, and even then, it was all for nothing." Cliodne was not able to prevent the hint of bitterness in her own voice.

"But why didn't you _escape_?" Raia asked, and Cliodne's entire body seemed to come alive with a searing anger. She looked furiously at her younger sister.

"You think I didn't want to? I _couldn't_. Every night I become human again, but only if I'm on that damn lake!" As quickly as it had appeared, the anger was gone. Cliodne's shoulders drooped, and her voice became tired.

"Soran said that this would be the worst kind of torture, and the surest way to break me. I'd be free during the day, but every night I would have to return to captivity— _willingly_. And as a swan, there was no possible way of asking anyone for help. I mean, who would listen to a bird, anyway?"

"I do." Eurielle said in a low tone. "I just can't understand what they say."

The sound that escaped Cliodne's throat was half-laugh, half-sob.

"Oh, how I've missed you all!" she exclaimed, pulling one hand free from Callia's grasp and wiping her eyes with the back of it. "But I'd give my right arm for you not to be here!"

" _I'd_ give my right arm to stab my sword through that bastard Soran's heart!" Thaleia said, pounding one fist on the wooden bedpost. She paused and seemed to reconsider. "Actually, I'd give my _left_ arm. I'll need my right arm to hold the sword."

Cliodne managed a weary smile, and then jerked her head towards the corner of the room, where a large trunk lay open. "I have a couple few dresses left in there. They won't fit perfectly, but they should fit you all the same. We'll want to be ready for when Soran finally decides to call for us."


	10. Fear Chapter 9

Chapter Nine: Fear

 _Callia_

Though Cliodne seemed convinced that Lord Soran would soon summon the sisters, hours passed before the bedchamber door was finally opened. The princesses had been taking it in shifts to get some sleep, with two of the girls sharing the wide four-poster bed, and a third nodding off in a rather cushy armchair. The remaining three princesses forced themselves to remain awake, talking to each other in low voices. As they rotated positions every hour, none felt truly rested when the knock at their door signaled that someone was about to enter.

Callia jerked upright at the sound. She had been dozing in the armchair, and a quick look at the darkness outside the window told her that it was still night, or possibly very early in the morning. She and her sisters were hurried out of the room by no less than ten Deturian guards, who led them down a long, opulent corridor. Portraits were hung on the walls to either side, featuring faces from the Deturian royal line. At the end of the hall, they descended a wide staircase made entirely of white marble. They were ushered through a door at the very bottom, and found themselves in the middle of the Deturian royal throne room.

The hall was immense but sparse, with a single stained glass window set into the wall behind the throne. Aside from the throne itself, the only furniture to be seen were tall, lit candelabras leading up and down the hall. On a raised platform directly in front of them was the royal throne, which was made from a dark wood that Callia guessed to be mahogany. Strange symbols and writing had been carved on every visible surface. Had she not been so terrified, she would have admired the workmanship.

Lord Soran stood waiting for them at the edge of the dais. In his hands he held a book of the deepest red Callia had ever seen. She noticed Cliodne's eyes fix on the volume immediately, her face filled with fear and dread.

Soran held up one hand and the guards escorting the princesses stopped, forcing the women to come to a halt as well. At another gesture from Soran, the men dispersed, taking positions all along the perimeter of the hall, hidden in the shadows. The princesses were left standing alone in front of the dais. Lord Soran smiled down at them, an easy, charming smile that was just slightly crooked. In that moment, Callia understood how he had managed to fool Cliodne so easily—not to mention King Einor. The man's cheerful face seemed guileless and trustworthy. Had she not already known his true nature, Callia might have fallen for the act herself.

"I feel I should apologize for that… _distressing_ scene you witnessed at your arrival, your Highnesses." Soran said easily. "I assure you, that was not the way I had planned for that to go. I _had_ hoped for our first meeting to be more…amicable."

Callia saw Thaleia's jaw drop in outrage out of the corner of her eye, and she stepped lightly on her sister's foot in an attempt to prevent her from responding. They would not give him any satisfaction in that respect.

Soran did not seem bothered by their silence in the slightest. He patted the cover of the ominous red book, and a strange gleam came into his eyes.

"Tell me, your Highnesses," he said, "have you ever encountered mention of the Faerie realm?"

Callia could not prevent the gasp of comprehension that escaped her at his question. She understood now—at least partly—the interest that Soran had in her sisters and herself.

"So you _have_ heard of them!" he crowed, eyes fixing on her, and his smile widening in delight. His gaze shifted to each of the other princesses in turn, and he mused, "But not _all_ of you, I think."

Callia clenched her jaw, refusing to answer. Her sisters did the same.

"Well," Soran said, his voice full of relish, "the Faerie realm is rumored to be the home of the most ancient and powerful of magics. It is separated from the mortal world by a Veil that is not easily pierced. In fact, many believe the Faerie realm to be a myth invented by storytellers.

"But those of us," he said, "who've studied the magic arts know differently. We recognize Faerie to be the _source_ of all things magical. One does not—one _cannot_ —possess magic in _this_ world without having first touched Faerie."

Callia swallowed, her thoughts racing. In her mind, she pictured the mysterious sanctum that had nearly trapped the princesses several years before. She had researched the phenomenon for months following their narrow escape, and had long ago guessed that the tunnel into which they had ventured had led them into a pocket of Faerie. Still, this theory had never been confirmed

Soran once again caressed the cover of the blood-red book. "For years I've been searching for a way into that realm, to possess some of this power for myself. I sensed hidden magic for the first time only three years ago, at your sister's wedding. Remnants of Faerie magic was coming from you—all _seven_ of you. You might remember this as being not long after your father announced a challenge—a challenge to solve the mystery of where his daughters disappeared to every night."

Soran looked down at them, his smile more crooked than ever.

"Shall I tell you _my_ guess as to where you were going?"

Eurielle seemed suddenly unable to contain herself. "You won't get in! The door's closed, and it won't open again for _years_!"

Her sisters attempted to silence her, but Soran's smile only widened. He waved one hand in dismissal at her words.

"Oh, I no longer _want_ to get into Faerie. After all, getting trapped is a distinct risk when travelling between the realms. No, I've found a new way—a _better_ way—to get what I need, without any danger—to myself, at least."

The dread among the sisters was palpable. Callia didn't feel that she could have brought herself to speak even if she had wished to.

"I'll simply take the magic from _you_ ," Soran explained. "I've found a combination of spells that work perfectly, though it _is_ a pity your eldest sister is not yet here. We'll have to fix that. I _could_ take the remnant magic from each of you individually, of course, but then it could only be used against the person from whom it's been drained. I've already experimented a little with that—to great success."

He gestured with a hand towards Cliodne, and Callia saw that her sister's face was stricken. The swan transformation. Soran had cursed Cliodne using some of her own Faerie magic—magic she hadn't realized she had.

"But draining you all together along with lucky sister seven," Soran sang playfully, "will strengthen the magic sevenfold. I could use it without limitations. Anytime, and anywhere. I could use it against _anyone_."

Callia's fists clenched at her sides. "And what makes you think Eralie will fall for anything you would try to get her here?" she barked at him. Thaleia trod on _her_ foot this time, far less gentle than Callia had done.

Soren opened his arms wide, gesturing to all six women standing before him.

"My dear princess, now that I have all of her sisters, it's only a matter of time before the seventh flies to meet us."

He swung around to look at the stained glass window set into the wall behind the throne. The colored panes sparkled as light filtered through them from outside. "And what perfect timing! Dawn approaches!"

Cliodne let out a low moan, burying her face in her hands in despair. Suddenly, Callia felt an unpleasant tingling sensation throughout her entire body, as though white-hot needles were piercing her skin. Then came an agonizing tearing feeling deep in her bones. And though Callia told herself that she would _not_ scream, that she would _not_ give Soran that satisfaction, the pain proved too much for her to bear.

She screamed.


	11. Flight Chapter 10

**Part Two: Flight**

Chapter Ten: Flight

 _Thaleia_

In a matter of moments, the transformation was complete. Thaleia lay, panting, on the cold floor of the throne room. She found it unbelievably difficult to move—or even to _think_ about moving. Her newly transformed body shook all the way from her beak down to her tail feathers, as if still reacting to the excruciating pain that had gripped it mere seconds ago. Struggling to stand, she attempted to use her wings to push herself up off of the ground, but found it impossible to gain purchase with her feathers. She scrabbled at the floor with her feet instead, horrified at how floppy and utterly fragile they felt. At last, she managed to get them under her body, and she lifted it off the ground. Unsteadily, Thaleia stood and looked around.

The first thing she noticed was the difference in height. Whereas Thaleia had never been the tallest person—or even the tallest of her sisters—neither would anyone have considered her short. But with this new body, she was only half as tall as she'd been as a human, if that. The spacious room towered over her even more than it had before. She felt dizzy as she craned her long neck to look up at the ceiling, and just barely caught herself from falling over again.

The next thing she couldn't help but notice was her sisters. At the spot where they had previously been standing now stood four white birds, virtually indistinguishable from each other. Two of the four were still struggling to gain their feet. The third bird was attempting to waddle forward and clearly finding it difficult. She swerved and stumbled into one of those attempting to rise, and both birds went down again. The fourth swan stood motionless, as though accustomed to her form and already unimpressed by it. Cliodne.

Among the four swans stood Raia, still fully human. Her wide gray eyes stared around at them all in horror. Her gaze lingered on Thaleia, and she seemed to recognize her twin in spite of her new form. Thaleia attempted to walk towards her, but she, too, found it to be much harder than she had expected. Her short feet tangled under her, and she stumbled.

Soran laughed.

White-hot fury filled Thaleia's chest, and she immediately abandoned all attempts to walk. She threw herself at the sorcerer, flying towards him with strong, sturdy wing beats. Walking—and even standing—as a swan had been difficult, but flying? Flying was fast. Flying was instinctual.

Flying was _easy_.

The other swan sisters had the exact same reaction as Thaleia, launching themselves at Soran to attack. _Beat him! Bite him! Peck him!_ Yet no matter how hard they tried, neither Thaleia nor any of her swan sisters could seem to touch Soran with beak or wing—or even reach him at all. There was some sort of protective shield around him that prevented them from getting close to him. Nevertheless, the five swans continued to ram themselves against the invisible barrier, trying in vain to attack the hateful man. When at last she stopped, Thaleia's sides heaved once more, and she flopped to the floor in exhaustion.

"Why?"

Raia's voice was small and plaintive. Thaleia craned her long neck to look at her twin. Raia had fallen to her knees. Her dress—one of those borrowed from Cliodne—was just a tad too big in the shoulders, and hung oddly on her frame. Her hands were clenched tight around the rust-colored fabric, and her knuckles were white. Thaleia's heart ached to see tears swimming in the gray eyes so like her own.

"Why?" Raia repeated, her voice choked. " _Why not me_?"

Soran sounded amused. "I need one of you capable of holding a quill. And after that diverting display, it's clear that I chose correctly. A fighter, my dear, you are not."

Thaleia made one last desperate effort to strike Soran following that remark, but was thrown backwards before she was able to lay so much as a feather on him. Soran shook his head, smiling slightly.

"Guards," he said, and the Deturian soldiers suddenly reappeared, emerging from the shadows. "Take Princess Raia to her new chamber and see that she is made comfortable. You may give her her belongings, but first check the contents of her trunk for weapons before leaving it with her. I'll be calling for her shortly, and I do not care to have any more blood spilled."

Two of the guards stepped forward to where Raia knelt and helped her to her feet. With one last glance behind her at her feathered sisters, Raia was escorted from the throne room and out of sight. Thaleia tried to yell her sister's name as she left, but all that escaped her mouth was a loud honk.

Soran glanced down at her, the expression on his face radiating a slight curiosity. "You certainly are a persistent one, aren't you?" he mused to himself. Thaleia glared at him, though she was not entirely certain whether her anger translated properly through her new avian eyes.

"As for the rest of you, I see no need for restraints." Soran said. "I'm not _entirely_ heartless, after all. You're free to go—" he smirked, "Excuse me, _fly_ —where you wish. But I'd be back by nightfall, if I were you."

The swan sisters were herded, hissing and honking, from the throne room by no less than eight of the Deturian soldiers. The men seemed far less comfortable dealing with fowl than with people. After all, Thaleia figured, herding disgruntled water birds had likely not been in their job description. She took a savage pleasure in making their task as difficult as possible, splitting off from the group on several occasions so they were forced to chase her down, and craning her long neck to bite as many legs as she could possibly reach. The other swans followed her example, hissing at the guards as they tried to slap their beaks away. When the strange procession finally reached the castle doors, Thaleia was sure that the soldiers were perhaps more relieved than they were.

And then they were outside.

Thaleia bit at one last leg, dodged the guard's hand as he swiped at her, and then took off, her wings churning. Her swan sisters launched into the air around her, and the five of them situated themselves intuitively into a V formation. Thaleia's feathers ruffled as she and the other swans rose higher and higher.

Flying was fast. Flying was instinctual. _Flying was easy_.


	12. Flight Chapter 11

Chapter Eleven: Flight

 _Raia_

The bedchamber into which the guards deposited Raia was much larger than the previous room had been. The furniture inside was room was all made of the same kind of wood as the throne, and the drapes and bedcoverings were in a deep shade of red. Raia winced at the color, remembering Soran's infernal book of a similar shade. Then she saw that there was not one, but three sizable four-poster beds, and she felt a stab of hope. Surely this meant that her sisters might also be joining her at some point?

Raia turned to ask the guards that very question, only to have the door slammed firmly in her face.

"Well, that's rude," she said aloud, feeling the sudden desire to laugh at herself. With the situation she was currently in, a slammed door was the least of her worries.

She sat down on the edge of the bed nearest the door and folded her hands in her lap. Raia had no idea what to do. What would Thaleia be doing had _she_ been the one left human? What would Petra do, or Cliodne?

They'd look for a way out.

Raia rose again and rushed to the door. She grasped the handle and tried to pull on it. It didn't budge. She pushed on it then with all of her might, her hands flat against the wood. Still, the door refused to move.

Raia glanced around the room once more, looking for anything that might help her. Her eyes lit up as they fell on a footstool, covered with a fabric as red as all the others in the room. She grabbed the piece of furniture, surprised at its weight. It was heavier than it had looked. Still, Raia was able to lift it without too much difficulty. She tried to ram the door with the footstool, keeping a firm grasp on the cushion as she beat wood against wood. The wood of the footstool legs split and one fell off entirely, clattering and bouncing as it hit the floor.

Raia stopped to survey the fruits of her labor, leaning in close to the door to see how much damage she'd caused.

Not even a splinter.

She threw down the ruined footstool, kicking it away from her. It slid barely a foot before coming to a stop. "Well, I didn't need to put my feet up anyway." She said to herself, then a new thought hit her. "The window!"

Raia rushed across the room and threw open the drapes. She let out a moan of disappointment. Heavy bars were built into the window, far too close together for her to have any hope of slipping through them. Raia huffed in exasperation and threw up her hands. "What kind of castle puts bars on the guest room windows?"

She gazed longingly through the glass. The window overlooked the strange forest that grew inside the Deturian palace grounds. Raia craned her neck, trying and failing to catch a glimpse of the pond where she had watched Cliodne transform—had it really only been the night before? It already seemed as though days had passed since them.

Giving up, she returned to her perch on the edge of the first bed, racking her brain for something— _anything_ —that she could try next. After awhile, the long night and her own fatigue caught up with her, and she drifted into an uneasy sleep.

A pounding on the door woke her several hours later. She sat up just as the door flew open to admit several guards. One of the guards carried a large trunk that she recognized as her own. He deposited it at the foot of the bed on which she was sitting and had started to exit the room again when he saw the broken footstool. He let out a muffled sound of exasperation before picking up the piece of furniture—broken leg and all—and taking it with him. Raia watched it go with a new feeling of regret. Had she thought of it before, she could have used the broken footstool leg as a weapon of some kind. She kicked herself mentally for overlooking the possibility until after it was too late. _Thaleia_ would have thought of it, she was sure.

Another of the soldiers carried a large silver tray into her room. Though covered, the tray admitted an appetizing aroma that filled the room, making her mouth water. Until that moment, she hadn't realized how hungry she was. It had been an entire day since her last meal, as she hadn't eaten since the noonday break while on the road the day before.

The Deturian guard set the tray down on a small side table. Before exiting the room, however, he spoke. "I would eat quickly, princess. The king has asked that you be brought to him once you've finished eating, and after you are properly… _clothed_." His eyes glanced once at the garment she was wearing, still the too-large dress she had borrowed from Cliodne.

Raia raised her chin. So that's what the _king_ wanted, was it? Her anger rose at this guard's servility towards the man who was keeping her captive—the man who had murdered the _real_ Deturian king. Yet before she could work up enough righteous indignation to respond, the guard had exited. Raia once again found herself facing a closed door.

"And again with the door slamming." She muttered.

Raia told herself that she would stretch out her meal to make Soran wait as long as possible, but her hunger got the best of her. She devoured all of the food on her tray, and barely refrained from licking the plate clean of spilled gravy. To compensate for her lack of control in eating, Raia took her time selecting a dress, and stalled even more changing into it. She felt an inordinate amount of pleasure in the idea of Soran being forced to wait impatiently while she hemmed and hawed in her cushy new prison.

At last, Raia could find no other way to stall for time. The guards reentered her room at the exact moment she had finished tying the last lace on her sleeve, leaving her wondering about how they had known she was ready. Had they been spying on her? She dearly hoped not.

This time, Raia was not escorted to the throne room, but rather to a smaller room on the second floor that seemed to be a drawing room of sorts. An enormous desk took up the entire right corner of the room, while several shelves of books adorned the walls. On a small table under one of the windows was a chessboard, its pieces already set up in their places as though waiting for invisible players to begin moving them around the board.

Soran was leaning against the desk when she entered.

"Ah, now you _do_ look more comfortable!" Soran greeted her. Raia glared at him.

"Where are my sisters?" she asked. Soran waved away her question.

"They're flying around here somewhere." He said airily. "But they'll be back by the time the sun sets. They'll have to return, you see, if they want to be human again."

Raia caught her breath. Though Cliodne had already explained as much, the very idea still shocked her.

"But what _I'm_ interested in," Soran stated. "Is getting your lovely _eldest_ sister to come join the party." He gripped one of her arms and led her around behind the desk. A blank piece of parchment lay on the surface next to a quill and a small bottle that was half-full of black ink.

Soran gestured towards the supplies. "You, my dear, are going to write to your sister. You'll tell her what a lovely time you're having, and you'll _beg_ her to come join you."

Raia's skin crawled at his touch, and she jerked her arm out of his grasp. "What makes you think I'd ever do what you ask?" she spat, real heat in her voice.

"Simple." Soran tutted. "You will, no doubt, have noticed that your new room is quite spacious. Large enough, one would say, for six people—though perhaps a little smaller than what six _princesses_ are accustomed to. Should you write my letter, you'll be escorted _back_ to that room following dinner, and so will your sisters. If not, then you'll be taken to a different room, one you'll find to be much smaller and far more… _lonely_."

Soran's ultimatum echoed dully in Raia's head. Her mind raced as she sought to find a way around completing his request, but she came up blank. More than anything, she wanted to see her sisters, to make sure that they were okay. But she also knew that hey would all be lost should Eralie fall into Soran's trap as well. And yet…

With trembling fingers, Raia accepted the quill and sat down to write.


	13. Flight Chapter 12

Chapter Twelve: Flight

 _Petra_

The sun was just beginning to set when Petra felt it: a strange force pulled at her insides, steering her back towards the Deturian palace. For an instant, she was tempted to try to fight the feeling. She _hated_ being controlled. But then her swan sisters all turned to face in the direction of the pull, and she rushed to keep up with them. The feeling got stronger the closer Petra and her sisters flew to the castle, leading her directly towards the lake on the palace grounds. From her lofty position soaring above them, she saw a number of guards surrounding the glassy water, clearing waiting for the swans to debark. Again, Petra hesitated. She was less than eager to fall into Soran's hands again. But at this close distance, the invisible force telling her to land became too strong to resist. She banked around and descended, her four swan sisters keeping pace with her on either side.

The splash as the swans hit the water was immense, drenching several of the guards standing nearest the pond. Petra felt a small surge of satisfaction at the sight of their now-dripping figures. The idiots deserved it.

Then the pain hit, driving all other thoughts from her head. A burning sensation surrounded her, as though her very feathers had caught fire. Her bones cracked and stretched, and Petra wanted to scream at the agony. She had broken her arm once as a child in an attempt to scale the castle wall back home; the pain she'd felt then was absolutely _nothing_ compared to this.

And all of a sudden, it was over. Petra found herself on her hands and knees in the middle of the pond. She thanked fate that the water was shallower than she'd expected. While her entire body was now soaked up to her shoulders, at least her face was not underwater. She struggled to her feet, weighted down by the damp fabric of her borrowed dress.

Of her sisters, only Cliodne had been able to remain standing following the transformation from swan to human, and Petra resolved to discover her secret at the earliest convenience. Cliodne was helping Thaleia, pulling on her elbow to help her regain her feet. Callia was not yet trying to stand, but merely crawled through the murky water to reach the edge of the pond. Eurielle was on her hands and knees like Petra had been, and like Callia, she was not making an attempt to stand. The transformation seemed to have hit her the hardest of the sisters, and she was dry retching into the water.

"Out of the water!" one of the guards yelled. Petra looked up at him, and saw that the man who had spoken was one of those who had been caught in the impromptu shower. She also recognized him as having been among their escort early that morning. Sure enough, a black-and-blue bruise on the back of his hand marked him as a victim of their vicious beaks.

'I hope it was me who'd bit him.' Petra thought sourly.

Cliodne, ever the diplomat, called out to the guards in a reasonable voice. "We need help. _She_ needs help." She pointed to where Eurielle still knelt. "They've never transformed before."

The guards looked at the youngest princess. Eurielle's face was still green, but she had stopped retching into the water. The same guard spoke again, and not a hint of pity could be heard in his voice.

"Then _you_ help her out."

Growling internally, Petra sloshed in the water to reach her younger sister. She grabbed one of Eurielle's arms and Cliodne grabbed the other. Together, they lifted Eurielle to her feet. Petra put her sister's arm around her own neck to support her as they climbed out of the water. The other princesses were all able to stand without assistance, though Thaleia still seemed a little unsteady to be standing on human legs once more.

The guards fell in around the five sisters as they walked, shivering, across the palace yard. None of the princesses spoke until they had crossed the threshold of the castle doors.

"Where are you taking us?" Callia asked, her voice sounding utterly exhausted.

Thankfully, it was a different guard who answered than before.

"To your chamber."

In her mind's eye, Petra pictured the small room from the previous night. Her limbs, already sore from the transformation, not to mention from flying all day, complained at the thought of another night spent sleeping in an armchair.

"Where's Raia?"

Though the question came from Thaleia, there was very little anger to be heard in her voice. Rather, Thaleia sounded fearful, nothing remotely like the brave elder sister that Petra looked up to—though she seldom admitted it.

None of the guards responded. They simply led the sisters up the marble stairs and down a long, twisted corridor, different from the one they had walked before. The group stopped before a heavy black door. One of the Deturians took out a key and fitted it into the lock. Stepping aside, he allowed the princesses to enter the room.

Petra did not notice the sound of the door closing them. Her attention—and that of all of her sisters—were caught by the figure already waiting for them inside the room.

 _Raia_.

Thaleia threw her arms around her twin with a glad cry of relief. Petra tried to help Eurielle to the bed before greeting Raia herself, but her younger sister was having none of it. Eurielle slipped her arm from around Petra's neck and stumbled to join the group of sisters hugging in the middle of the room. Clamoring to be heard over each other, they bombarded Raia with questions about her day, leaving little opportunity for their sister to answer. Finally though, the sisters had settled enough to allow Raia to speak. Sitting on the beds around her, they listened intently as she recounted the request Soran had made of her.

"I didn't know what else to do!" she wailed, and the others were quick to reassure her.

"I think I would have done the same thing." Eurielle said, reaching around Thaleia to pat Raia's hand.

Cliodne nodded, thoughtful. "I don't think you did wrong. And I don't think that letter will work, anyway."

Petra agreed. "Eralie won't come just because you ask her to." She said slowly. "She was very decisive about her refusal to come with us in the first place. She was certain she was needed in Kyoria."

"And remember," Thaleia told Raia. "We all tried for days to talk her into coming. If convincing her in person didn't work, I don't see how sending her a new invitation by letter really gives us anything to worry about."

The relief on Raia's face mirrored the sentiments felt by all of them. The idea that Eralie was safe from Soran's net—even momentarily—was certainly a welcome one.

Then Petra frowned slightly. "What _I_ don't understand," she mused. "Is why Soran isn't trying to use us as hostages, and get Eralie here as some sort of…ransom demand."

Eurielle and Thaleia echoed her confusion, but Cliodne was already shaking her head. "Admitting he has us imprisoned would be tantamount to declaring war on Kyoria. It might even be seen as an act of war against the entire Council of Kings. And if I'm not very much mistaken, Soran isn't ready for that yet. But after he has all of us here and he's… _drained_ us…" her voice trailed off, and Callia finished her thought.

"Then he wouldn't see war with Kyoria or the Council as a problem anymore."

Cliodne sighed deeply. "And if that's the case, he might not stop at Kyoria. We don't know exactly much power he'll be able to get."

Petra shook her head. The thought was a troubling one, to be sure. Soran had already managed to change five people into animals just by using small samples of their remnant Faerie magic. What might he not be able to accomplish with all of it?

Suddenly, Eurielle bolted upright, her voice excited. "If he's so eager not to let Father and Eralie know that he's got us locked up, then wouldn't it be a good thing if we…I don't know… _told_ them somehow? They might even find a way to free us without having to go to war!" Her eyes were full of optimism and a certainty that their father would be able to do just that.

"How?" Petra asked her dryly. "Something tells me we can't just drop a note in the post."

Eurielle deflated.

"And besides," Petra continued. "Soran with one hostage is bad enough." She nodded towards Cliodne. "But six hostages? Getting all of us out would be difficult, if not _impossible,_ to manage from afar."

Cliodne nodded at her thoughtfully. "So basically," she said slowly, and Petra could practically see the wheels turning in her head. "having the six of us as prisoners has given Soran far too much leverage over Father. Even if Father were to find out, there's not much he can do about it, short of declaring war. So what we need to do…" With a sudden grin of comprehension, Petra finished her sister's sentence for her.

"We take away the hostages."


	14. Flight Chapter 13

Chapter Thirteen: Flight

 _Eurielle_

The first night that Eurielle was able to transform without dry heaving was a momentous occasion for her, though none of her sisters seemed to notice her accomplishment. While she was a bit disappointed, she couldn't really blame them for their preoccupation. After all, planning their escape—or as Eurielle liked to call it, Operation Fly the Coop— _did_ tend to take a lot of their time, not to mention their concentration. Their days were spent fulfilling the tasks that each had been allotted individually, while their nights were given to revising and updating their strategy together in their chamber.

For the moment, preparations for their escape were largely dealing with gathering information. In this respect, the princesses found their daily transformations into swans to be a blessing in disguise. Soran saw the princesses in their avian forms to present little to no threat to his plans, as they could neither communicate their need for help, nor could they escape from the castle for longer than a day—at least, not unless they wished to remain swans forever. Keeping Raia locked in her room in human form provided him with extra insurance. Soran was confident that he had the sisters well and truly trapped.

And they used this arrogance—and their freedom to roam—to their advantage.

Thaleia was allotted the responsibility of observing the guards. She noted their exact positions around the castle, as well as made mental notes of shift changes. She had also taken to perching above standing guards on multiple occasions, so as to eavesdrop on their conversations. In this way, she was slowly coming to recognize the men, as well as ascertain any possible weaknesses they displayed both as individuals and as a unit. At one point, Eurielle had witnessed her elder sister taking advance of her lofty perch above one of the many guards, and had had to admire her sister's aim—not to mention her daring.

Cliodne had been given the task of familiarizing herself with the surrounding environment. As she had been staying in Deturus for months prior to her sisters' arrival, she already had an extensive head start in memorizing the different possible routes out of the kingdom. Furthermore, having been led by Soran himself on many of her outings meant that she was already aware which trails were more commonly used by the man whom the princesses most wanted to avoid. Cliodne spent hours during the day flying over the lesser-used forest paths, sometimes landing on the ground to investigate a cave or hunting trail that she suspected might prove useful. She disappeared most days as soon as she grew wings, and Eurielle often did not see her again until they were all debarking in the pond together for their transformation.

A similar mission had been given to both Eurielle and Petra. Instead of investigating escape routes through the forest, however, they were instructed to concentrate on finding ways to escape the castle itself. They investigated every nook and cranny from the outside, and even ducked through an open window in the lower hallway on several occasions to observe the interior as well. At one point, Eurielle had only just avoided being scalded by a hot bowl of soup after flying too quickly around a corner and startling a stray kitchen maid.

Callia's responsibility was perhaps the most time-consuming task of them all, though Eurielle suspected that her sister didn't much mind. She spent nearly all of her time in the library, trying to find a way to break Soran's curse over them. Eurielle sometimes wondered how Callia managed to turn the pages with wings instead of hands and feathers in lieu of fingers, but she did not doubt her sister's ingenuity when it came to reading. All of the princesses knew that they needed the right spell or counter curse to ensure that they would no longer have to worry about being human only at night following their escape from the castle. Indeed, their entire escape plan hinged on Callia's success, for without such a spell, they were effectively tied to Soran's enchanted lake if they wanted to become human at all.

As Raia had not been included in the daily swan transformations, she was not given the same freedom as her swan sisters. Eurielle knew that she chafed at the restriction. Raia was locked in their bedchamber around the clock, and was only allowed out at mealtimes. Soran permitted Raia to eat breakfast and lunch in the small dining room located in the south tower. This room had only one entrance, and was sparsely furnished but for a table, one chair, and the ever-present Deturian stained glass window on the far end. She was kept under heavy guard throughout each meal, and was never allowed anything sharper than a butter knife.

Dinner, however, Raia was forced to take every night with Soran in the royal dining room, where he peppered her with questions about her experiences in Faerie.

"I just don't respond," Raia told her sisters one night. "I haven't even spoken to him for the last three days, at least. But it doesn't seem to bother him much."

Eurielle stared at her. "But he's not suspicious at all, right?" she asked anxiously. Raia shook her head, her mouth twisted in disgust. Due to the close watch Soran kept on her, her role in Operation Fly the Coop was essentially to keep the sorcerer from finding out about their plans. Eurielle had already heard her complain to Thaleia several times of feeling useless in regards to helping them all escape.

"Well, I have good news," Callia suddenly announced. She hesitated, then added. "Well, kinda."

Eurielle squealed. "Did you find a way to break the curse? Is it a spell? Can I be the one who casts it? Or maybe a potion, that would be so cool!"

"Hush, Eurielle!" Cliodne said. Eurielle clamped her mouth shut, not bothered in the slightest at her elder sister's admonition. She gazed eagerly at Callia.

Callia nodded and withdrew a piece of paper from her pocket. One edge of the paper was ragged, and Eurielle realized with a small gasp that it was a page ripped from a book. This went far beyond using one of the volumes as a weapon. _Callia_ had defaced one of her oh-so-precious books—permanently. As far as Eurielle was concerned, that action more than anything else testified to the seriousness of their situation.

"I was sure it was going to get drenched when I landed, but I couldn't think of any other way." Callia said. "It's not like I could write it down."

She lay the page down on the bed, pressing it with her hand to try to smooth out some of the wrinkles. Eurielle leaned in and followed along as Callia read the words aloud.

 _Knit of nettles and speak no word_

 _to change a form from man to bird_

 _A lonely task, for only one_

 _may touch the thread after it's spun_

 _And once complete, the spell be broke_

 _when feathers all, the garment cloak_

 _Yet changing those who are enthralled:_

 _it's all at once, or none at all._


	15. Flight Chapter 14

Chapter Fourteen: Flight

 _Cliodne_

Cliodne leaned back in her chair, the words of the rhyme reverberating through her head. Her mind was racing as she tried to work out its meaning.

"'All at once'," she repeated slowly, "'or none at all'."

Eurielle threw her hands up in the air. "Whatever in the world that could mean!" she cried, frustration clear in her voice. "You know, I'm really sick of riddles! Why can't they just say what they mean, and mean what they say? Go here, do this, eat a piece of pie! See?! Easy!"

Petra coughed, and Cliodne could have sworn she was hiding a smile. Callia, on the other hand, was looking at Eurielle as though she had grown two heads.

"But riddles—and rhymes—are _classic_." She insisted. "They're great strategies for writers to add an element of drama to any story."

Thaleia's voice was dry. "I think _our_ story had quite enough drama before, to be perfectly honest. Adding a riddle we have to solve is just plain mean." And for all her love of puzzles, Cliodne could not help agreeing with her sister. They certainly had enough to be getting on with in planning their escape without adding a vague rhyme to the mix.

"So what could it mean?" Raia asked, and the princesses all turned their attention back to the piece of paper. Cliodne saw Petra's lips moving as she read the rhyme silently to herself. She reached out and tapped a finger on the second line.

"Well, it certainly seems as though this is what we'd need." Petra said, nodding approvingly at Callia. "After all, 'to change a form to man'—or _woman_ —'from bird' is exactly what we want to do."

" _And_ ," Cliodne added, "in order to accomplish that, it seems we'd need to knit… _something_ …from nettles."

Raia was already shaking her head, her voice a mixture of confusion and exasperation.

"But you _can't_ knit with nettles. You need yarn to knit. And no one would choose to use nettles, anyway, even if you _could_ knit with them. Nettles hurt. That's why they're called _stinging_ nettle."

Cliodne rubbed the palm of her right hand with her left. She knew from firsthand experience how much nettles stung, having stuck her hand into a patch once when gathering flowers as a young girl. Yet somehow she felt no surprise at the idea of this unpleasant plant being a requirement to break their curse. It seemed almost expected that they would be asked to undergo a little pain to complete the ritual, and she told her sisters as much.

"But that still doesn't answer the question of _how_ we're going to knit with them." Petra argued. Callia tapped her chin with one finger.

"Actually," she began slowly, her eyes out of focus as though she were remembering something from long ago. "I've read about a process used to spin yarn from different kinds of plants. I don't remember nettles being among them, but I think we could adapt the process easily enough to include it all the same."

Eurielle jumped in eagerly, and Cliodne marveled at her enthusiasm for the riddle, following so close on the heels of a complaint. "And the riddle doesn't specify _what_ we need to knit! It just mentions some kind of garment that'll cover us when we're swans! That shouldn't be too hard, right?"

Raia seemed thoughtful.

"You're a little bigger than normal swans," she mused, and Cliodne felt a stab of surprise. She hadn't realized before how her size when transformed compared to the size of the actual birds. Raia continued. "But…I think a large shawl of some sort might be able to cover each of you. And each one would really only take maybe a couple weeks to make."

Thaleia seemed to catch the excitement now as well. "And with all six of us working, it shouldn't take very long at all!"

"No."

Cliodne's voice was firm and almost regretful when she spoke. Her sisters turned to look at her. She pointed again at the page, this time indicating the third and fourth lines. "It says that only one of us can touch the nettle yarn. That means only one of us will be able to knit the garments to complete the ritual."

The other five princesses seemed to deflate at this new and most unwelcome revelation.

Eurielle's voice was small when she spoke. "But that could take _ages_." Her sisters echoed her disappointment.

Cliodne hated to add even more bad news to their load, but felt that it needed to be said. She dragged her finger back up to the first line of the poem. "And the one who knits the garment isn't allowed to speak."

Eurielle stared at her. "We couldn't speak while knitting?" she asked, seemingly horrified at the very thought. Cliodne cleared her throat.

"Actually," she said reluctantly, "I think it means that that person can't speak _at all_. Not until the whole task is done, and the spell is broken." She looked around at her sisters. Callia nodded in confirmation of her words, while Thaleia and Raia merely stared at her. Petra seemed to be considering the possibilities of such a restriction, her eyes fixed on the youngest sister. Eurielle looked as though she might faint at the idea, and her voice rasped when she spoke.

"But that's more than a sacrifice! That'd be torture! Getting your hands stung by nettles and all the while you can't say a word? Who would _do_ that?"

"I will."

Silence filled the room as all the princesses turned their heads to look at Raia. Her expression was determined, and her gray eyes looked remarkably like steel as she stared stubbornly back at them all.

"Why not?" she asked them. "I haven't been able to do much up to now. I want to."

Thaleia gaped at her twin, seemingly at a loss for words. Then she burst out, "Ray, we're not talking about watching the guards for a couple hours, or looking for holes in the walls. This… _task_ …will probably take weeks! Maybe months! And you wouldn't be able to speak that entire time!"

Raia's response was as fierce as her twin's. "And until this task is done, _you_ won't be able to escape the castle! None of you can! Not without becoming swans forever and ever!"

Cliodne's heart clenched at her words, but her mind was already processing Raia's suggestion. Her voice when she spoke was much more logical than either Thaleia's or Raia's had been.

"On the one hand," she said slowly, choosing her words carefully. "Raia would have more time to knit than the rest of us, since she's human all of the time instead of just at night."

" _And_ I'm the fastest at it!" Raia added, and Cliodne conceded her point.

"On the other hand, though, you're also the only one of us who ever sees Soran." Cliodne warned her younger sister. "And he might become suspicious if you become a mute all of a sudden."

"Yeah, something tells me he's probably familiar with this type of counter curse already." Callia chimed in. But Raia shook her head.

"I've already been giving him the silent treatment, anyway!" She argued. "So it's not like I would have to explain that I've taken a vow of silence or something. If anything, I think he'd be more suspicious if I suddenly _started_ talking, rather than if I stopped."

Cliodne pursed her lips and nodded. Her other sisters followed suit—all except Thaleia, who still seemed reluctant to agree with her twin sister's sacrifice.

"And Raia is the only one who would actually be able to do it." Petra said practically. Cliodne saw Thaleia bristle at her words.

"How so?" she asked, her voice almost aggressive. Petra looked at her, her expression calm.

"Think about it." She said. "If we all have to transform at the exact same time, then someone else will have to throw the shawls over us to cover us. Raia's the only one who can do that." Thaleia's shoulders slumped, and Raia placed a reassuring hand on her arm.

"But it's not like we won't be able to help." Petra continued, her voice surprisingly reassuring. Cliodne furrowed her brow and opened her mouth to argue, but Petra continued before she could even speak a word. "Yes, only one of us can knit the garment. But the rest of us can collect the nettles, and even help spin the yarn as well, as long as we don't actually _touch_ it after it's been spun."

Cliodne saw Thaleia perk up at that, but only slightly. Her younger sister was still clearly far from thrilled about Raia's involvement in such a difficult task. But Cliodne knew that she also saw the necessity of it. They all did.

She sighed and looked again at Raia's determined expression. Raia's shoulders were back, and her jaw jutted forward.

"Any other objections?" she asked, clearly more than ready to defend her case in any way possible.

There were none.


	16. Flight Chapter 15

Chapter Fifteen: Flight

 _Callia_

It took the better part of three days before the princesses had gathered the supplies they needed to start the process. Having successfully completed her previous task of finding a counter curse, Callia's new responsibility was to gather the nettles needed for their knitting. Raia had fashioned a pouch out of one of the white pillowcases from their bedroom, so that Callia had something in which to put the plants she gathered. Cliodne was given a similar bag as well, so that she could pack away any nettles she came across while exploring her escape routes out of Deturus. The bags tied easily around their avian bodies and blended perfectly with their white plumage. As such, the princesses were able to slip them past the guards with minimal trouble.

Like Callia, Petra had also been given an entirely new task, leaving Eurielle to explore the castle's exit strategies on her own. Just as Callia and Cliodne were gathering nettles, Petra had been put in charge of laying her hands—or _wings_ , as the case may be—on everything else the princesses needed. This included knitting needles, as Raia's own needles had been removed from her trunk. Callia was at a loss to understand why this could be, though she suspected that they had been confiscated as possible weapons.

The _piece de resistance_ , however, was Petra's appropriation of a spinning wheel.

Callia stared at the wheel where it stood in the corner of their bedchamber. She was in absolute awe of this tangible proof of her sister's skill. She glanced behind her at the locked bedchamber door, then at the barred window.

"How on _earth_ did you sneak that in here?" Eurielle asked in a hushed voice, voicing the question on all of the princesses' minds. Petra smirked slightly.

"You don't want to know."

Callia was reasonably sure that truer words had never before been spoken—though this realization nevertheless did not abate her curiosity.

"But the point is," Cliodne said, "That's the last thing we needed in order to start making the yarn." She deposited her pillow-pouch on the floor, and Callia saw that it was filled about two-thirds of the way with stinging nettle. She herself had managed to fill her bag completely so that it had bulged against her stomach while she flew. As a result, she'd had a harder time than usual hiding the bag from sight.

Raia's face was slightly white, but her voice was decisive. "Then we can begin tonight." She reached under the middle bed and yanked on the corner of one of her dresses that they had hidden there. Piled in the shirt of the dress were all of the nettles that had been gathered over the previous two days. They had managed to find a respectable number of the plant in the palace grounds and surrounding areas, and had laid them out on the skirt to dry the plants in preparation for their process. Seeing that there was no longer any room on the fabric to spread out their new load of nettles, Raia fished out another of her dresses. Callia and Cliodne emptied their sacks, and their collection swelled even more.

The princesses sat down on the floor around the dress and got to work preparing the dried nettles to be spun into yarn, wincing in pain as their hands touched the unfriendly leaves and bark. They split the fronds, rolling them together between their fingers to extract the fibers of the plant. Then they pulled and stretched and pulled some more to lengthen the plant material. In the center of their circle lay a shallow washbasin filled with soap and water. Every so often, one of the princesses would stop to soothe her sore hands in the liquid before continuing with her work. Raia was not allowed to participate in this first step of their task, as Callia argued that she'd be able to knit much faster if her hands were not already sore and swollen.

"And I think Soran will notice if you showed up at dinner tomorrow evening with hands the same size as the dinner plates." Petra added drily, her own hands busy.

To make up for her inability to help, Raia kept up a steady stream of cheerful chatter as her sisters worked. While this was not customary behavior for Raia, Callia felt that she understood her sister's need for speaking, given that she would soon be forced to remain utterly silence once she had begun her part of the task.

"Oh," Raia said, pacing up and down the room to give herself something to do. "Soran also told me today to 'politely request' that you guys stop relieving yourselves on his chair. And his throne. And his bed."

Callia smirked—and she was not the only one to do so. None of her sisters bothered to hide their smiles from each other. Though childish, Callia was nevertheless unsurprised that the others had also been taking their revenge on Soran—or _leaving_ it, as the case may be—in that particular way.

"So hide it better, got it." Petra deadpanned, and Thaleia snorted a laugh.

Raia fought to hide her own smile, though a hint of worry also clouded her brow.

"I don't think that was _quite_ what he meant, Pet."

Thaleia dunked her hands in the basin, releasing a sigh at the soothing sensation. She grinned at her twin, and Cliodne noticed a mischievous glint in her eyes. "It's a tactical decision, Ray." Thaleia said. "To keep Soran from suspecting what we're _really_ up to when we enter the castle while we're still swans."

Eurielle tore savagely at a nettle leaf. "Plus it makes me feel _loads_ better—not to mention lighter."

Callia gasped, but could not restrain a laugh at her sister's audacious joke.

Several minutes later, Callia surveyed their work with critical eyes. Small bunches of fibrous plant material now littered areas of the fabric. She caught Cliodne's eye, and her elder sister nodded.

"Okay," Callia said, grabbing one bunch of nettle fibers and rising to her feet. "I'm going to try spinning it now."

The rest of her sisters stopped their work, following Callia with their eyes as she sat down before the spinning wheel. She tied a piece of scrap yarn to the spindle as the leader thread, giving Raia time to take hold of the end, as she was the only one allowed to touch the finished yarn. Callia pumped her foot to send the wheel twirling before slowly feeding the nettle fibers in. The fibers wove themselves around the leader thread. Callia kept pumping for several seconds more before she stopped. Holding her breath, she looked at Raia with a questioning gaze.

"Well?" she asked.

Raia closely studied the nettle yard, tugging lightly on it to test its durability. Then she nodded.

"I can work with this." She said, and the princesses all broke into relieved smiles. Cliodne passed along several more bunches of nettle fiber, and Callia began pumping her foot once more.

The sisters took turns spinning at the wheel, and before long had accumulated a sizable skein of nettle yarn, heavy enough that Raia was no longer needed to keep hold of the thread. As Raia dropped her grip on the fiber, all six princesses held their breath, recognizing the impact of the moment.

The time had come for her to knit.

Quieter than she'd been for the last several hours, Raia retrieved the knitting needles that Petra had stolen for her from their hiding place. Thaleia drew an armchair close to the spinning wheel, and Raia sat down.

"Remember." Callia couldn't help saying from her spot on the floor, where she'd once again been splitting nettles. "Remember, Raia. Not a word. Not until we're finished."

Raia nodded silently, then swallowed and looked around at all of them. "I love you all, you know."

Thaleia leaned over and wrapped her arms around her twin's neck. "We know, stupid."

Picking up the very end of the nettle yarn, Raia began to knit.


	17. Flight Chapter 16

Chapter Sixteen: Flight

 _Thaleia_

For the first time in her life, Thaleia felt a distinct sense of pleasure at watching a garment take shape. She'd always considered the pastime of sewing or knitting to be beyond boring, preferring instead to undertake activities of a more active nature. But now Thaleia could honestly state to almost enjoy the new nightly routine of making nettle yarn with her sisters, in spite of her stinging hands. She would even go so far as to say that the hours they spent crushing nettles had become rather the highlight of her day.

Then again, considering she spent most of her days sporting wings and feathers, perhaps this wasn't saying much.

Still, Thaleia couldn't help feeling proud as she looked at their ever-growing supply of yarn. Having five of the six sisters spinning ensured that Raia was never in demand for more thread—a tall order, as she also spent several hours knitting during the day as well. Raia completed the first of the five shawls after eleven days' work, and the princesses could not help cheering softly when she cut the thread. This small accomplishment seemed to light a fire under them, and they returned to their work with increased vigor.

The princesses felt this renewed enthusiasm throughout the following day. Both Callia and Cliodne had managed to fill their pillow-pouches to the brim with new nettles, and the five swan princesses were almost eager to get their hands on them. Petra had managed to steal several pairs of sturdy gloves the day before from the Deturian royal gardeners. While the thick fabric made it slightly more difficult for them to handle the nettle leaves and bark, the gloves were effective at protecting their hands from the plant's stinging.

Yet their enthusiasm for their task abated upon entering the bedchamber and seeing that for the first time, Raia was not there waiting for them. Thaleia's heart clenched.

"What if Soran's found out about us?" She all but whispered, gesturing towards Callia's bulging bag of nettles. Her sisters' faces mirrored the worry she was feeling.

"I think there's only one way to find out." Petra said, and knelt down on the floor to peer under the bed at their hidden cache of nettles. She gave a yelp of triumph as she pulled the dress out. Their stash remained untouched.

Petra nodded decisively. "That was by far our worst hiding spot," she said. "If Soran had found anything, he would have found that." Thaleia was still unconvinced.

"Then where's Raia?" She asked Petra stubbornly. Cliodne was the one to venture a guess.

"Soran probably held just her up at dinner." She said. "I'm sure she'll be here soon. And until then, there's no harm in spinning a little thread to take our minds off of our worry."

Thaleia's sisters nodded in agreement, moving to remove the supplies from their different hiding spots. Thaleia followed rather reluctantly. She shimmied to the top of the furthest bedpost and helped Petra remove the spinning wheel from where it hung around the curtain rod. This spot had been the only place they'd found to hide their largest tool, though they'd initially been afraid that the wheel might break from hanging in such a way. Thus far, however, the wood of the spinning wheel had proven itself to be stronger than it appeared.

Once the spinning wheel had been firmly placed on the ground, the five princesses fell into their yarn-making routine—with one notable exception. Eurielle had been given a different task for the time being. Armed with a single glass, the youngest sister was given the responsibility of listening at the door for approaching footsteps.

"We'll need extra time to hide our supplies before any guards see them." Cliodne shot a pointed look at Thaleia and added, "After all, _when_ Raia comes back, she likely won't be alone."

Cliodne was right. The moment Eurielle warned them of approaching footsteps, the sisters sprung into action, shoving supplies out of sight. Thaleia had only just finished concealing the spinning wheel once more when the door opened, admitting Raia. She let out a small gasp of relief at the sight of her twin, followed by a hiss of rage upon seeing the person who entered next.

It was Lord Soran, in all his hated glory.

Thaleia stretched her fingers, and she had to fight the urge to scratch out the man's eyes.

Soran positively beamed at them all.

"Good evening, m'ladies!" He greeted them cheerfully.

Thaleia mentally pictured herself punching him in the mouth. 'Bet he wouldn't smile so much if he was missing a couple of teeth.' She thought, tempted almost beyond her own restraint.

Soran seemed to notice nothing of Thaleia's inner turmoil. "I know you must all be wondering for what purpose I've come tonight," he said. "And I wouldn't dream of leaving you hanging for long!"

Thaleia's attention was suddenly caught by Raia. Her twin's eyes held a hint of panic, and Thaleia felt a sudden stab of dread.

"Congratulations are in order!" Soran exclaimed, placing his hand on Raia's shoulder. "Your sister and I are engaged to be married!"

Thaleia's jaw dropped. The rest of her sisters looked just as thunderstruck and horrified as she felt, with the obvious exception of Raia. Raia's expression was similar to that of a doe trapped on all sides by hunting dogs.

Soran seemed amused at their reactions. "Of course," he said playfully, "Such an occasion should be celebrated with more fanfare-glasses of champagne at the very least! But that will have to wait until _tomorrow_ night, after the official announcement has been made. Still, I simply felt that telling Raia's _family_ was the first and most important thing to do."

At Soran's last statement, Raia's eyes connected with Thaleia's. She seemed to be trying to tell her something, yet Thaleia could not think what that might be. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Cliodne sit down heavily in an armchair, as though her legs had suddenly given out.

Soran clearly noticed Cliodne's action as well. For a moment his smile dimmed slightly, and Thaleia thought she saw something in his eyes that resembled…could that be _regret_? Soran removed his hand from Raia's shoulder. When he spoke, however, his voice was just as mockingly jovial as it had ever been.

"I imagine that you will have plenty to talk about," he said, turning to leave the room. "What with new wedding plans to gossip about. So I shall leave you for tonight."

The door closed behind him, and silence reigned in his wake. The sisters merely stared at Raia, lost for words and eager for the explanation that their sister was unable to give. Not _verbally_ , at least.

Raia reached into the bodice of her dress and removed a piece of parchment that she had taken to hiding there. Already half-covered with inked-on phrases, the piece of parchment had become Raia's sole method of communicating with her sisters. Thaleia handed her a quill, and she immediately started scribbling furiously. The princesses all gathered around to read over her shoulder as she wrote.

 _Eralie's response came. My invitation didn't work. She's not coming._

Thaleia shrugged. They had all known that strategy for luring Eralie to Deturus had been a long shot. Thaleia was rather surprised that Soran had thought that it would have worked at all.

But Cliodne seemed to understand immediately where Raia was going with her explanation.

"And Soran thinks that Eralie is sure to come to Deturus if one of her sisters is getting married." She concluded, closing her eyes.

Raia nodded, and the princesses all drew in their breaths sharply. Thaleia furrowed her brow as a thought struck her. "But if that's what he thinks," she said to Cliodne. "Why would _Raia_ be the one he'd choose to get engaged to? I mean, I know she's not a swan at all, but she's still only just arrived a couple weeks ago. _You've_ been here for months." The last statement sounded almost like an accusation, and Thaleia felt a bit shamed after she'd said it. After all, _Cliodne_ was certainly not the one to blame for Soran's choosing Raia as his purported fiancée.

Cliodne did not seem bothered by Thaleia's tone. She considered her sister's words for a moment, and then started as though a sudden thought had struck her. Her face filled with fury.

"He read my letters!" She whispered in outrage.

Thaleia laughed a little. "And that surprises you?" She asked her elder sister sarcastically.

"It's not…I just…in one of my letters," Cliodne fumbled for words. "I mentioned to Eralie that there was… _someone_ …here in Deturus that I… _respected_. She asked whether there was any danger of me…of my _not_ returning to Kyoria. I told her no, that a couple weeks—or even a couple months-wasn't long enough to know for sure. I said that I wasn't such a romantic that I would jump into such a big decision like _she_ might. Or…like Raia might."

Cliodne looked at Raia, an agonized expression on her face. "I think that's why Soran chose you. Because of what I wrote…and because he thinks that Eralie might actually believe that _you_ would…that you might get engaged to someone you…didn't know very well." Cliodne's eyes pleaded with Raia for forgiveness. Raia placed one hand on her elder sister's arm, indicating a forgiveness that she could not vocalize. In that moment, Thaleia admired her twin sister's mercy. She, herself, could not help feeling a bit angry at Cliodne's admission, though she also recognized a hint of truth in what her sister had written. Of them all, softhearted, artistic Raia _was_ the one who would have been most likely to fall in love with a complete stranger.

Cliodne seemed to collect herself, and when she spoke again, her voice was practical once more. "Has Soran forced you to write Eralie yet?" She asked Raia. Raia shook her head and wrote again on her parchment.

 _Tomorrow._

Thaleia felt a sudden jolt of determination. "Well, that's not happening." She declared, glancing around at all of her sisters before focusing her gaze on Raia. Her shoulders straightened. "Because we're getting out of here."


	18. Flight Chapter 17

Chapter Seventeen: Flight

 _Raia_

Raia had covered every available inch of her parchment in ink in her attempts to argue against their immediate escape. At the base of all of her arguments was the terrible truth that her sisters would no longer be able to return to human form once they had fled the castle and its enchanted lake. Until Raia finished knitting all five nettle shawls, her sisters would remain swans for all hours of the day and night. _And who knows what that will do to you?_ Raia had written. _What if there are long-term effects?_

Yet her sisters had stood firm. They declared themselves prepared to risk the unknown eventualities in order to help Raia slip out of Soran's net. And despite all of her misgivings and arguments, Raia was forced in the end to concede to her sisters' wishes. But she did not sleep that night.

Rather, Raia chose to knit away the hours. She was now more determined than ever to finish the shawls as quickly as she possibly could. While her sisters burned the midnight oil as well, they took turns resting in the three large beds in between taking shifts at the spinning wheel. The princesses were desperate to make as much nettle yarn as possible before they would be forced to leave the spinning wheel behind.

Final preparations for their escape plan began not long before dawn. All of the necessary supplies for their knitting were packed into a bundle and attached to Raia's pantaloons, where they were completely hidden under her dress—or dresses, rather. She had also donned Cliodne's larger dress over one of her own garments as a form of extra padding.

Just before their daily transformation began, Thaleia took Raia by the shoulders and hugged her.

"Remember, Ray," she told her. "Surprise is _key_." Then Raia felt her wince at the pain as she began to change.

In the moments immediately following her sisters' dawn transformation, Raia had to work very quickly. Having stripped the sheets from the three beds, she made her rounds among the swans, tying one of the sheets around each sister. It was a difficult task, as the sheets needed to be tied in such a way that they would not be noticed by the guards, who were due to arrive at any moment. Raia's fingers trembled as she rushed through the task.

'Quickly, quickly!' she thought to herself.

One of the swans—Raia guessed it to be Eurielle—honked a warning just as she was finishing the last knot. Raia heard the sound of heavy boots outside in the corridor, and gave one last tug to arrange the sheet before stepping away.

The door opened and a single guard stepped into the room, holding the door open for the swans. Raia repressed a hysterical giggle as her swan sisters waddled from the room in a single file line, calm as could be. At any moment she expected to hear a shout from one of the guards indicating that the bed sheets had been noticed. But the shout never came.

The guard closed and locked the door behind them once more, and Raia immediately began a mental countdown. It typically took the guards ten minutes to set her sisters loose outside the front doors, after which they would return to escort Raia for breakfast in the south tower dining room. She hoped with all of her heart that her sisters would have enough time to be ready.

Though Raia had been anticipating the guards' knock almost to the second, the rapping on her door caused her to jump all the same. The door opened and she walked out on shaking legs, though she held her head high. She could feel the pouch of supplies hitting her leg as she walked, but the guards had yet to notice anything different in the manner in which she moved. She just hoped it stayed that way.

Raia took a deep breath as they approached the door to the south tower dining room. 'Please,' she thought silently. 'Let them be ready.'

The guards opened the door and stepped aside to let Raia enter first. She forced herself to not so much as glance at the large stained glass window on the wall furthest the door. She walked calmly towards the dining table, taking no notice of the breakfast foods laid out on the table in front of her. Instead, she kept watch out of the corner of her eyes, waiting for the moment where the guards moved to take their regular positions around the perimeter of the room. It was the moment when all eyes would _not_ be on Raia—though just for a moment.

That would be her only chance.

She reached to pull out her chair. The moment her hand touched the hard wood, the guards around her turned slightly to move to their usual assigned stations. Taking advantage of their momentary inattention, Raia sprang straight into a run, heading towards the opposite side of the room. The guards had barely enough time to let out startled exclamations before she had hurled herself through the window. She had been worried that what limited momentum she would gather running from the dining room table to the window would not be enough to shatter the glass, but her concern proved unnecessary. Deturian stained glass—coveted for its beauty and artistry—was not known for being the sturdiest of materials.

The beautifully designed window shattered on impact. Raia felt a split second's remorse for destroying the masterpiece before she was overcome with the terrifying sensation of falling. Out of sheer willpower, she choked back the scream that rose from her throat.

'Please be here, please be here!' she thought, closing her eyes so that she would not be able to witness the ground rushing up to meet her.

 _Ploumf_.

Raia's eyes flew open again as she bounced slightly in the hammock that her swan sisters had prepared. Made up of multiple sheets lying one on top of the other, the hammock was suspended right underneath the window of the south tower dining room—the same window through which Raia had burst mere seconds before. Holding the corners of the sheets were her sisters, straining to stay aloft now that Raia's weight had been added to their load. Though they pumped their wings madly, Raia could not help feeling concerned at how they seemed to still be losing altitude, rather than gaining it. Would all their plans be for nothing?

At last, however, the advantage of the swan princesses' larger-than-normal sizes paid off. Raia felt her hammock slowly rise further and further into the air as a result of her sisters' efforts. She peeked over the side of the sheet and nearly fainted at the sight. They had risen even higher than the castle's tallest tower, moving decidedly westwards to clear the exterior wars and fly out over the dense Deturian forest. She ducked back in her hammock, resolving not to look down again.

Raia heard shouting below them, but did not dare to crane her neck over the side of the sheets to look again. She could only assume that the guards on the ground were rushing about trying to come up with a strategy to stop their escape.

Raia could not help a smirk. Soran's soldiers would be at a loss in finding a way to force them down. They could not use arrows or crossbows to shoot at the swan sisters', for Soran still needed all of the princesses alive for his plans. In truth, the only thing that the guards would be able to do would be to follow the princesses on horseback and wait for them to land again. And while the girls had gained more than a viable head start, being forced to carry Raia between them impeded her sisters' ability to fly as fast as they were able. Soran's horsemen would no doubt catch up to them after but a few moments.

But the princesses had a plan for that as well.

Raia forced herself to stay as still as possible in her hammock so as not to make it more difficult for her sisters to carry her. She noticed a slight pain in her arm and glancing down, was shocked to see a small shard of glass embedded in her skin. She gripped the piece of glass with the tips of her fingernails and tugged it out. A tiny stream of blood from the wound trickled from the wound.

'I'll have to bind that when we land.' She thought to herself, then looked at the piece of glass in her hand. For her moment, she imagined how it must have looked when she had crashed through the stained glass window. She felt a distinct sense of pride at her own daring.

'Who's a fighter now, huh, Soran?' she thought smugly.


	19. Feathered Chapter 18

**Part Three: Feathered**

Chapter Eighteen: Feathered

 _The Swan Princesses_

The flock flies away from the sun over the forest where owls call, with Raia Our Other hanging in between. Raia Our Other is heavy, but the flock is strong together. Our wings are strong so that we can fly, our will is strong so that we can fight, and our minds are strong—so that we might escape.

Escape with Raia Our Other.

Escape together.

But the flock knows that Bad Others will soon follow and this will be very bad indeed, for the Bad Others must _not_ be allowed to catch up to the flock. The Bad Others must _not_ be allowed to recapture Raia Our Other. They will take Raia Our Other away again; they will take her back to the Dark Other—and the flock _hates_ the Dark Other. The Dark Other is full of evil and magic and danger; he has lied and he has killed, and because of this, he _must_ be defeated.

But the Dark Other is protected; he cannot be bitten or scratched or touched at all, not by wing or beak or claw. The flock has tried many, many times and every time, the flock has failed to hurt him. Thaleia Who Fights is angry that the flock has failed, for the Dark Other _deserves_ to be hurt. The flock knows that the Dark Other _must_ be stopped.

But Callia Who Knows is wise, as is Cliodne Who Leads. And our plan is wise, too. We know that to defeat the man, we must thwart his plan. And so the flock will not fail again. The flock _must_ not fail again.

The Dark Other _must not_ get Raia Our Other.

So the Bad Others who follow the flock _will_ follow the flock—and they will be led away, far away. But first, Raia Our Other must be left safe, where the Bad Others cannot find her at all.

Cliodne Who Leads honks twice, and the flock knows that it is time to land. The flock settles on soft grass near a large cave, with midnight inside its depths. Cliodne Who Leads has been in this cave, and she knows that it is safe. She has searched it and watched for Others to enter, but no Other has. This cave is hidden and will not be found by the Bad Others. It is a good place for Raia Our Other to wait—as wait she must—for the flock to lead the Bad Others far, far away from the safe cave.

Raia Our Other climbs out from between the flock onto the soft grass. She lifts small rocks and puts them down again where she was before, on the white fabric between the flock. The rocks will be heavy, but not hard for the flock to carry, for the flock is strong together. And the rocks are important, for they will trick the Bad Others to follow behind, and to be led away.

The flock rises again, but Raia Our Other does not rise with them. She is Our Other, but she is still Other. Her wings cannot fly, so she is grounded. She must wait in the cave for the flock to return.

The flock flies together back over the forest where owls call, back towards the castle, and back towards the Dark Other. The Bad Others are looking for the flock, and now the Bad Others will be allowed to find the flock.

It is Petra Who Steals who sees the Bad Others on the ground below, and hisses. The Bad Others are travelling away from the sun and towards the safe cave, towards Raia Our Other. But they must not find Raia Our Other.

The flock flies closer to the Bad Others so that they will be seen, and it works. The Bad Others shout and point at the flock and follow behind on their horses, which is good. This means that Raia Our Other will still be safe in the cave.

The flock does not rush, for the Bad Others must follow. The flock flies far away from where Raia Our Other waits, flies to where the new forest begins towards the Homeland of the flock. The sun rises high in the sky above the flock, but the flock flies on, and still the Bad Others follow below. And more Bad Others come, riding on their horses to keep pace with the flock.

The sun starts to fall and it is time. Cliodne Who Leads keens once to signal to the flock, and the flock drops back as if to land on the Bad Others right below. But the flock does not land. Thaleia Who Fights hisses, and the flock releases the fabric from between us, releases the small rocks so that it falls down, down, down. The rocks do not hit the Bad Others, and Eurielle Who Honks is sad. She wants to hit the Bad Others. She had _tried_ to hit the Bad Others.

But the Bad Others are fast on their horses, and they move out of the way so they are safe from the falling rocks. Yet they are distracted all the same, and so the Bad Others are not looking when the flock flies away. The flock does not fly together. We fly in different directions—towards the setting sun and away from the setting sun, towards the Homeland and also towards the Dark Other's castle—to confuse any who might still be following. And soon the Bad Others are gone, lost in a place where Raia Our Other is not. So the flock can return.

But there is a pull that the flock feels deep in our bones, a pull towards the Dark Other's castle and towards the Dark Other's lake. And oh, it is hard for the flock to push against the pull. It is hard not to follow the path to the lake, and to become Other once more.

But the pull of Raia Our Other is stronger than the pull of the Dark One's castle and the Dark One's lake. Raia Our Other is Our Other, and she waits for the flock in the safe cave. The flock will not leave her to wait alone.

The sun is low before the flock is able to return to the safe cave where Raia Our Other awaits. Thaleia Who Fights arrives back first, and is glad. Raia Our Other sits alone on the ground in the cave, her wings busy making the garments that the flock so desperately needs. She looks at Thaleia Who Fights and there is water on her face, but Raia Our Other is happy. She is smiling. Thaleia Who Fights lies beside her and watches her busy hands, and they wait together for the rest of the flock to return.

And one by one, they are there. Petra Who Steals circles many times before landing, and is the last to arrive, but at last, they are all there. Petra Who Steals comes with food in her beak that is for Raia Our Other to eat, but Raia Our Other does not eat. She is smiling and she is happy, but she is not hungry, so she does not eat. She touches each of the flock's heads and wings and feathers with her wing, and there is more water on her face. The flock gathers around Raia Our Other, sitting around and on her legs and watching her make the garment that is so important.

Then it is dark.

It is dark and there is pain.

There is pain in our wings and our feet and our bones and our feathers there is pain in our eyes and our beak and our minds there is pain and pain and nothing but pain.

And then it is over.

The pain has stopped, but the flock remains. The flock have not become Other as we did the night before and the night before and the night before. And though the night pain has gone, it is also still there, and it is deeper, for now there is sadness.

Raia Our Other has water on her face, but she is not happy this time. She does not smile when she touches our heads, our feathers, our wings. Each of the flock lies her head down on Raia Our Other's legs, and the pain is not so bad when it is shared together. For yes, Raia Our Other is sad, but the flock is together. And the flock is strong together.


	20. Feathered Chapter 19

Chapter Nineteen: Feathered

 _Raia_

Raia woke the next morning just before dawn to a crick in her neck and a general stiffness all over. She stretched, wincing as she flexed her fingers—surprisingly the most painful parts of her body. Her hands were cramped from knitting all throughout the previous day and into the early hours of the morning. Yet despite her sore fingers, she could not regret the time she had spent at the task. Knitting had kept her hands busy and her mind occupied while her sisters had been away leading the guards astray from their trail. In fact, Raia had found herself unable to stop knitting even after the swans had returned safely back to the cave. She had found it a cathartic and effective way to keep herself from dwelling on the issue of her sisters' now permanent avian state—at least, permanent _until_ Raia could break the curse. And though she had managed to complete another shawl early in the afternoon the day before, she still had three shawls left to finish.

So she had knit even faster, forcing her grainy eyes to remain open long past the time that they first began drooping. Raia had at last fallen asleep, still hunched over her knitting with her back leaning against the cave wall. Her swan sisters perched all around her, and several of them had even chosen to sleep on top of her, their feathers vibrating as they breathed deeply in and out in slumber.

The swans were in almost the exact same positions around her when Raia stirred the next morning. In truth, it was by these positions that she was slowly coming to identify which swan was which sister—or at the very least to venture a guess. Raia was all but certain that Thaleia was the swan with ruffled neck feathers who had claimed Raia's lap as her nest—rather loudly and forcefully, she might add. She had hissed at the other swans that had attempted to sit there, practically shoving them out of the way before plopping down firmly herself.

Yes, that was Thaleia, all right.

Two of the other swans had nestled right up to Raia's sides, one on the left, the other to her right. Raia was reasonably sure that these were Cliodne and Eurielle. Cliodne—the largest swan of the bunch—had sat to Raia's right. She occasionally bumped her head against Raia's hand while she had been knitting, as though encouraging her in her efforts. However, as the hours ticked on, the swan's head bumps had become less encouraging and more forceful, as though she had been protesting Raia's incessant knitting, and was trying to tell her to stop working and get some sleep. Raia strongly suspected that Cliodne most regretted the loss of her voice for not being able to urge her younger sister to take proper care of herself. She felt a stab of guilt at the thought.

'I'm sorry, Clio.' Raia thought, patting the sleeping swan's head with her hand. 'I'll do better.'

The swan to Raia's left, however, acted very differently, and Raia was able to recognize Eurielle in the smallest bird's mannerisms. She was nestled as close to Raia as possible, burrowing herself to where she was almost _under_ Raia's hip, rather than beside it. She had also been the first of them all to drift to sleep—evidence beyond all reasonable doubt that this bird was the youngest Kyorian princess. Eurielle the swan slept with her long neck arched gracefully and her head pillowed on Raia's side, dangerously close to Thaleia's territory—a classic Eurielle move.

Callia, Raia guessed, was the swan with the gray tint to her wings snuggled in the fabric in between Raia's legs. Her identity was decided more by process of elimination than anything else, for the last swan—the one with the long tail feathers—could not be anyone other than Petra. The only one to wake before Raia, this swan had clearly been busy either throughout the night or during the very early hours of the morning. On the cave floor beside Raia's feet was piled a small collection of food that had clearly _not_ been foraged from the forest. On first glance, she saw fresh bread and cheeses, as well as several different kinds of fruit and an entire pie. Petra herself was perched on Raia's ankles next to the food. Head cocked, she simply stared between her sister and the pile of food that she had accumulated, and Raia could swear that her sister's avian face looked almost smug.

The smell of the fresh bread reached Raia's nostrils, and her stomach growled. Petra the swan looked positively triumphant at the sound, nestling down further between Raia's ankles with a self-satisfied body wiggle. Raia smiled her thanks and reached for an apple. She tried to move slowly so as not to dislodge Thaleia or her other swan sisters sitting around her. Yet as soon as her fingers touched the fruit, the swans suddenly awoke all at once.

Raia was afraid at first that she had been the one to wake them, but quickly realized that this was not the case. Soft light filtered in through the mouth of the cave, and Raia felt a stab of horrified comprehension.

It was dawn.

Her sisters were experiencing all the pain of their transformation without the actual transformation. They all keened and hissed, their feathered bodies writhing on the floor as if they were in the utmost agony. Raia watched them helplessly, racking her brain for anything that she could do to alleviate their pain, but there was nothing.

Finally— _finally_ —it was over. Her sisters stopped moving and writhing, and for one terrifying moment, Raia feared that they were dead. Had they made a horrible mistake leaving Soran's castle? What if this were their punishment for escaping, the loophole in their curse that they had not anticipated?

Then Eurielle's wing twitched and Raia released the breath she had been holding. She reached out with trembling fingers and stroked first Eurielle's head, then all of her sisters' heads in turn. The five swans seemed to welcome the small ministration, even Petra. Then as one, the birds rose to their feet. Thaleia pushed Raia's apple towards her twin in a silent appeal for her to eat. She obeyed.

As Raia slowly ate her way through the provisions that Petra had collected for her, her swan sisters foraged for their own food. They snapped up weeds and insects in the dirt surrounding the mouth of the cave. Raia shivered slightly at the sight of Thaleia swallowing a large beetle. Clearly, her sisters had already become used to such fare after spending the last couple of weeks as swans during the daytime hours, but Raia nevertheless found this evidence of their new diet to be slightly disturbing—not to mention disgusting. She thanked her lucky stars that she was still human and did not have to resort to eating insects for food. Then she felt an immediate stab of guilt at the thought. It had certainly not been her sisters' choice to be transformed, nor had Raia had any control over being excluded from the curse. It was luck—pure, dumb luck—that she was not also swallowing crickets like her sisters, let alone feeling the pain of their transformations.

Raia had only just finished the last of the apples—she only had the pie left to eat—when she realized that her sisters were all standing at the cave entrance, staring at her expectantly. Clearly, they felt that it was time that they all got moving. Raia packed away the pie rather reluctantly, dropping it into the pillow pouch where she'd hidden her knitting supplies—the same pouch that Callia and Cliodne had been using the last couple of weeks to collect nettles. Her knitting, however, she kept in her hands. Raia had mastered the art of knitting while walking when still just a child. She fully intended to take advantage of the time that they would have to spend walking through the forest in order to get as far as she could knitting the shawls for her sisters.

Raia felt a pang as she and her sisters walked away from the cave. Though they had only stayed there for one night, she had felt safe for that night—her first night of newfound freedom. She could not help regretting leaving the shelter behind, though she understood the need for it. After all, staying too long in one place would soon become very risky in regards to evading recapture from Soran's search parties. Still, while she and her sisters had several other possible shelters in the forest that they eventually planned to use in their escape, they could not guarantee when they would actually reach any of them.

The six sisters walked west through the forest underbrush, using the brightening sky at their backs to situate themselves in terms of direction. During their late-night planning sessions as Soran's prisoners, the princesses had collectively decided not to head directly northwards towards Kyoria after they managed to escape from the castle.

"It's the first thing Soran would expect." Cliodne had argued reasonably. "We need to outthink him."

Her younger sisters had unanimously agreed with her, though some with more disappointment than the rest at the bitter realization that they would not be heading straight home. Thaleia had been the one to suggest that they flee west instead, towards the neighboring kingdom of Hiall. Hiall was a known ally of Kyoria, though separated from Kyoria itself by the antagonistic country of Ithcar. Cliodne had been in contact with the ruler of Hiall—Queen Therese—for the past several years through correspondence, though she had yet to visit the country in person due to the perceived danger of straying too close to the Ithcarian border. Despite their limited personal experience with Hiall, however, the sisters had been convinced that they would be able to find shelter within their ally country's borders. Once they were safe in the Hiallan royal palace, they would then be able to send a message to their father or Eralie regarding the true nature of their circumstances.

As further incentive to adopt this plan, the route to Hiall through the forest presented by far the quickest way to escape Deturus's borders. Where it had taken the princesses' first travelling party nearly a month to reach the Deturian palace on horseback from the Kyoria-Deturus border, the journey to Hiall from the royal Deturian castle was at most a week and a half using the same form of transportation.

Unfortunately, making their escape from Deturus on horseback was not a viable option, as the sisters had decided to err on the side of caution in order to avoid recapture. It had been determined that stealing a mount for Raia for their journey would garner far more attention than they could afford to gain. To make matters worse, the same had also been decided in regards to the swan sisters' flying—apart from their initial escape, of course. However way they looked at their situation, the princesses could not deny that the sight of five large swans flying daily over the forest was bound to draw the gazes of passing travellers and villagers.

And thus the swans were grounded. They were forced to waddle alongside Raia on the thin forest trail, and as a result, the pace of their travel was laboriously slow.

Cliodne led the way, her white tail feathers swaying gently from side to side. Having explored all the possible avenues for their escape over the past several weeks, Cliodne was the one most familiar with the route the princesses had agreed upon, and was serving as navigator for the little group. She also determined the times throughout the day that they rested, signaling each break to her sisters with a definitive honk.

Behind Cliodne waddled Callia and Petra, both of whom had been placed in charge of finding nourishment for Raia, though in very different ways. Here, Callia's previous lessons in identifying edible plants were used to their advantage. At several occasions throughout the day, Callia broke away from the group to seek out a sprig of burdock or other edible flora in the forest underbrush, though she did not wander more than a couple of feet away at any given time. Returning to the group with the plant clasped tightly but carefully in her beak, she would drop whatever she had found into Raia's hand, waggling her tail feathers in a manner almost reminiscent of a dog. Raia smiled and accepted each offering from her sister gratefully, stroking her sister's head in thanks.

Petra, however, wandered much farther afield than her elder sister in searching for food for Raia, often disappearing from their sight completely for fifteen to twenty minutes at the very least. Raia gave a silent sigh of relief each time her sister came back into view carrying whatever pastry or legume she had managed to snatch that time. Though Raia accepted these offerings with just as much gratefulness as she did Callia's, she could not help but wonder each time where Petra had managed to find the food. Was she raiding kitchens or gardens in the area? Raia strongly suspected that to be the case, and could not help feeling guilt at the thought that she was eating stolen food.

Thaleia also tended to stray from her sisters so that she could scout the surrounding area for possible dangers, whether human or animal. Though this task had once again been agreed upon by the princesses prior to their escape from Soran's palace, Raia's heart remained lodged in her throat every time her twin sister vanished from sight. Her heartbeat only returned to normal when Thaleia once again returned to her view.

Raia herself walked slowly behind the group of swans in order to check her pace, with Eurielle almost constantly underfoot. The youngest swan princess seemed unable and unwilling to detach herself from Raia's skirts—a clinginess that Raia had not seen in her sister since Eurielle had been a very small child. As the artistic ones of the group, Raia and Eurielle had shared a bond growing up that almost rivaled that between Raia and Thaleia. Still, Raia felt slightly worried at her sister's newfound attachment; she was afraid that such a reversion in behavior was evidence perhaps of a more serious deterioration as well.

Not to mention that having Eurielle walking so close made it difficult for Raia to continue her knitting. On several occasions already, the swan had nearly become tangled in her skirts and as a result, Raia was now constantly wary of tripping over her sister. Yet despite this and other newfound difficulties in their journey through the Deturian forest, Raia kept her eyes fixed on her knitting needles. She only glanced up from her work throughout the day to occasionally check that her path was clear, and that her sisters were still waddling doggedly on in front of her. She ducked reflexively under low hanging branches that the swans had not even noticed. She hopped over small puddles through which her sisters had seemed happy enough to trod. Thorns snagged and mud splattered on her skirts as she walked.

And through it all, Raia knit.


	21. Feathered Chapter 20

Chapter Twenty: Feathered

 _The Swan Princesses_

It is light.

It is light and there is pain.

There is pain in our wings and our feet and our bones and our feathers there is pain in our eyes and our beak and our minds there is pain and pain and nothing but pain.

And then it is over.

The day begins and the flock is walking once again, walking through the forest where owls call. The flock longs to spread our wings, to rise up and out of the forest, and to soar over the trees and above the clouds in the clear blue sky. The flock is like lightning in the sky—swift and graceful and free. But on the ground, the flock is slow and clumsy when walking, and the path is hard and rocky underneath our feet. The flock was not meant to walk all day long. The flock was meant to fly.

But the flock cannot fly, for to fly is to be seen by Bad Others or the Dark Other. To fly is to be caught, to be captured, to be caged. And to fly is to leave Raia Our Other behind. For Raia Our Other is Our Other, but she is still Other, and her wings cannot fly. Raia Our Other is grounded.

But she will not be grounded alone, for the flock will remain together. The flock is strong together.

The flock moves ever west, away from the sun that rises and towards the sun that sets. It is through this way that they will reach Good Others, who will help the flock and help Raia Our Other to reach the Homeland again. And so they walk on under the trees and through the forest where the owl calls. Slow and clumsy the flock may be on the ground, but still they continue on their way to reach help and safety and the Good Others.

Raia Our Other's eyes and wings are busy as they walk, making the important clothing for the flock. And so the flock takes care to care for her while she works, to make her work easy and to help her make the important garment. Cliodne Who Leads chooses the best paths for Others—the paths that are easy for Raia Our Other to walk on. She chooses the clearest paths with tall trees and firm footing. The ground is hard and tough and hurts the flock's feet, but the flock is strong. It is more important that Raia Our Other will not stumble and will not fall while she is making the important garment.

Raia Our Other has no need to look for food, for the flock provides in that as well. Callia Who Knows forages for plants that are good for Others to eat. She remembers learning these plants, and the book, and the game with Raia Our Other and two Kind Others. For a moment, Callia Who Knows is sad to remember the two Kind Others and their game. Then she sees more food for Raia Our Other, and has no time for sadness. She goes to fetch the plant.

Petra Who Steals is not sad, for she has found Other dwellings just outside the forest where the owls call. Other dwellings are easy to find and easy to reach, though she must fly a little to get there. But Petra Who Steals is alone, and no Other will see her—and there is lots of food for Raia Our Other to eat. There is bread in the window, and a garden near the dwelling with carrots and beans and beets and more. Petra Who Steals does not feel guilty, for the Other dwelling has much to spare, and Raia Our Other has none at all. Raia Our Other needs the food more.

Eurielle Who Honks walks beside Raia Our Other. She watches her hands, which are always busy, always busy. She keeps close to Raia Our Other to get comfort and to give comfort. Raia Our Other cannot fly, cannot speak, cannot communicate with the flock at all. And so Eurielle Who Honks walks with Raia Our Other so that she will not be alone. So that Raia Our Other would _never_ be alone.

Thaleia Who Fights searches the forest where owls call for possible danger. She sees many small beasts and is unafraid, for they are no threat to the flock. A fox approaches Eurielle Who Honks, but Thaleia Who Fights hisses, and the fox is gone. Above all, Thaleia Who Fights looks out for Others who would capture Raia Our Other or harm the flock. She looks out for Bad Others who would bring Raia Our Other to the Dark Other. But she sees none. The forest is quiet, and so far the flock has been safe and alone. Yet still Thaleia Who Fights looks for the danger. She knows that it will come soon while they walk or while they rest or maybe while they sleep.

The sun starts to fall, and the flock feels the pull deep in the bones, an ache to return to the Dark Other's lake and to become Other once more. It is hard to push against the pull, but not so hard as before. Raia Our Other needs the flock, so the flock will not leave her alone. The pull of Raia Our Other is stronger than the pull of the Dark Other's magic.

The pull also shows that is time to stop and sleep for the night. The flock stops to makes our nest, sometimes in a safe cave like the first night, or sometimes on the soft grass off the forest path. There is always a rock or a log near the nest for Raia Our Other to sit and work. The flock eats and then gathers around Raia Our Other, to lie our heads down on her legs or lap or feet, and to watch her hands, always busy, always busy.

And then it is dark.

It is dark and there is pain.

There is pain in our wings and our feet and our bones and our feathers there is pain in our eyes and our beak and our minds there is pain and pain and nothing but pain.

And then it is over. The pain has stopped and the flock remains.


	22. Feathered Chapter 21

Chapter Twenty-One: Feathered

 _Raia_

Raia had long lost track of the number of days since she and her sisters escaped the Deturian palace and Soran's clutches. She knew that it had certainly been longer than a week since their grand escape—perhaps even more than two weeks. The days and nights had merged together in her mind from hours spent walking and knitting and stumbling through the forest. Raia was certain that she must look a right sight from tripping over roots and sloshing through countless mud puddles on a daily basis. Her feet had already developed blisters on top of blisters, and her shoes—the sturdiest boots that she owned—were all but falling apart. Her dress was stained with the forest, despite all of her efforts to wash it—and herself—in the river by which they had camped only the night before. Though Raia still tied her hair back daily in her usual chignon, it was also getting harder and harder for her to untangle the strands with her fingers.

Her swan sisters, of course, did not have the same problem, as their grooming consisted mainly of ensuring that their feathers remained white and clean. The swans' appearances did not reflect the difficulties of their forest journey to the same extent as Raia's; it was a distinction that Raia found herself envying on more than one occasion, particularly as she struggled to wash her hair without soap or shampoo of any kind. Yet despite the challenge that maintaining her personal hygiene presented, Raia would have given anything to ensure that such minor issues were the extent of her worries.

But her days on the road were also filled with the never-ending fear of discovery—and of their subsequent recapture. Raia and her sisters had initially gone five days without seeing another human soul, but by the sixth day, it was clear that Soran and his men had at last realized that the princesses were not, in fact, on any of the roads heading back to Kyoria. Deturian search parties could now be heard or spotted in the forest nearby, though they had yet to actually cross the sisters' paths on the tiny forest trail that the princesses had been following. The game trail that Raia and her sisters had been using to guide them was all but deserted apart from themselves. Clearly, Cliodne had done her research well in selecting their route out of Deturus.

Still, Raia saw the presence of Soran's soldiers in the forest as excuse enough for the princesses to be more cautious both during the day and at night. The smallest trace of guards in their vicinity was enough to send Raia and the swans scrambling for cover, so that their presence would not be detected. As the scout, Thaleia would honk once at her sisters to signal that soldiers were moving around nearby. The sisters would stop walking immediately, ducking into bushes and up trees in order to hide themselves from sight. Raia all but stopped breathing in these moments, waiting with bated breath for Thaleia's low hiss—the signal that the strangers had moved on and that the coast was clear. While Raia regretted the time lost traveling during these short interludes, she nevertheless welcomed the respite they offered from the incessant walking.

She did not, however, welcome the break from knitting that was forced upon her. These mad scrambles for cover in the forest underbrush were among the only times of the day when Raia would stop knitting, but only because she was terrified that the low clatter of her needles would attract the attention of the people from whom they were hiding. She regarded each and every pause with unbridled impatience, eager to resume her work.

She _needed_ to resume her work.

Raia felt the pressure of this task like a heavy weight on her shoulders—a burden that she was forced to bear silently to fulfill the terms of the ritual. She felt as though words were bottling up inside of her, desperate to be released, but time and again she bit them down. Her sisters were counting on her to finish the shawls to break their curse, and she was determined not to let them down. But Raia's vow was complicated by these new forced pauses in her work. Being in constant motion had already slowed down the progress she was making in knitting the third shawl, and she chafed at the addition of further delays.

An even more pressing concern was Raia's rapidly decreasing supply of nettle yarn. Prior to their escape, Raia and her sisters had tried to spin as much nettle yarn as possible with the hope that their supply would be enough to create all five shawls. As Raia knit the third of the five shawls, however, she kept a worried eye on the nettle yarn still remaining. She was doubtful that the yarn that she had left would stretch to complete all of the necessary garments, and Raia was at a loss as to what she could so should she run out. While she was sure that there would be a plethora of nettles to be found in the forest, she no longer had a spinning wheel with which to spin them into yarn. Furthermore, Raia could no longer count on her sisters to help her in spinning more nettle yarn, given their permanent avian state.

In fact, she was beginning to doubt whether they would even be able to aid her in gathering nettles as they had before. As the days passed by, Raia found herself worrying more and more about her sisters. She suspected that their prolonged removal from the magic lake—and the subsequent rupture of their nightly human transformations—was beginning to take a toll on their minds. Raia noticed with fear and dismay that they had begun to act increasingly less like princesses—or even less like humans at all. Her sisters were now behaving more and more like… _swans_.

Cliodne at the front of the party hesitated every time they came to a new crossroads in their path, where previously she had been so certain of the route that they were on. Raia worried that her elder sister was starting to forget the maps that she had so painstakingly memorized in the weeks of planning their escape. She held her breath every time Cliodne paused, letting it out again only after the new path had been chosen. Raia could only hope that she and her sisters were still on the correct path to reach Hiall; she had no way of knowing exactly where they were, and she mentally kicked herself for not having brought a map with them. She and her sisters had been so confident in Cliodne's ability to navigate them out of Deturus that they had thought stealing a map to be an unnecessary risk. None of the princesses had ever imagined that Cliodne's lightning-quick mind and photographic memory might become unavailable after her prolonged experience as a swan.

How Raia regretted that decision now.

Eurielle was also slowing down the party even more, for she had seemingly lost all sense of urgency to escape from Deturus. No longer constantly under Raia's feet, the youngest and smallest swan often lagged behind the group, waddling slowly and lazily as if she had all the time in the world. On several occasions, Eurielle had stopped walking entirely, plopping herself down in the middle of the path and tucking her head under her wing as if about to take a nap. She had had to be nudged awake once more by Raia and then pushed forward a couple of steps before she could be urged to continue walking.

Raia found that her sisters also seemed less cognizant of her presence among them—or at the very least, they seemed to have forgotten that her needs were different than their own. Neither Callia nor Petra sought out food for Raia as often as they had before, and what food they did bring her was increasingly more in the line of their own diet—pond reeds and berries inedible for humans, and once, a whole beak full of crickets. Raia had only barely refrained from screaming aloud when Petra had dropped the insects into her hand, with the same look of pride on her avian face that she wore every time she brought Raia something to eat. Raia could still feel the sensation of the tiny legs crawling over her palm, and she shuddered at the thought. Following this cricket incident, she had taken to foraging for her own food rather than relying on her sisters' offerings, which took even more time away from her knitting.

To make matters worse, the group of travellers was forced to stop more and more often by the sound of Thaleia alerting them of danger in the vicinity—even when there was none to be found. Thaleia had begun sounding the alert for increasingly innocuous reasons, the most recent being the presence of a lost tomcat in the forest nearby. The swans had immediately bunched together in a protective circle, their necks outstretched and bobbing threateningly as they hissed. Though a confused Raia had managed to shoo the cat away with a simple wave of her hand, it had taken several minutes before her sisters had calmed their fear enough to continue on their way.

In fact, the swans' behavior at the last several alerts had provided Raia with a new area of concern. Rather than hiding in the bushes and trees as the sisters had previously agreed upon for their strategy, the swans now invariably circled together to face the perceived threat head-on. Though these last few alerts had all been false alarms involving no real danger, Raia did not like to think what would happen should she and her sisters encounter one of Soran's men now. She had a horrible feeling that her sisters' new defensive strategy would make it incredibly difficult for her to ensure that they all evaded notice. In truth, Raia doubted her ability to hide five swans from sight when the swans themselves seemed more inclined to fight.

The only silver lining that Raia could find was that the pain that her sisters felt at dawn and at nightfall seemed to be dissipating. While the swans still keened and hissed at those times of the day, their frantic writhing had diminished to a simple shaking. It was as though the deep agony that her sisters had felt previously during their faux-transformation had lessened to a gentler ache. Though Raia was relieved that her sisters were now spared the worst of their daily torture, she also regarded this change as yet another sign of the curse worsening still more.

And it frightened her.

What frightened Raia—and saddened her—even further was that her sisters no longer seemed to desire the same physical comfort as they did before—the same physical comfort of which she still felt in dire need. She had come to cherish the feeling of her sisters' avian bodies nestled beside her at night, their heads and sometimes even their wings spread wide over her. And then several nights prior, Petra had tucked her head under her wing and slept with her body barely grazing Raia's skirts.

Raia's heart broke a little.

The next night, Cliodne and Callia slept in the same position, heads tucked and wings close to their sides. Only Eurielle and Thaleia still nestled in close to Raia, each using her leg to pillow their heads. Raia drew comfort from the contact, but she missed the warmth of her other sisters.

That night, Raia choked back a sob as Eurielle curled her neck and placed her head under her wing like the other swans. Raia did not dare look down at Thaleia by her side—the last of the swans to fall asleep. Her hands trembled in their knitting when she felt Thaleia begin to settle in beside her hip. Raia's eyes were misty with unshed tears as she waited, half dreading what her twin sister would do.

Thaleia stretched out her wings wide before pulling them in close to her body. She wiggled once to make herself comfortable. Then she lowered her head onto Raia's leg, and closed her eyes in sleep.

Raia wept silent tears of relief.


	23. Feathered Chapter 22

Chapter Twenty-Two: Fear

 _The Swans_

It is light.

It is light and there is pain.

Then it is over.

The flock walks on the ground behind She Who Leads. The flock does not like the ground, does not like to walk. She Who Honks wants to rest. But She Who Honks cannot rest. The flock cannot rest, must not rest. The flock must walk. Walk on and on and on behind She Who Leads. Walk on the hard path, the rough path. The path that hurts the feet. She Who Honks must wait to rest. She Who Honks must walk. Walk on and on and on.

The trees do not end on the ground. They end in the sky. The sky with the clouds. The sky with the wind. The sky where the flock should fly. But the flock should not fly, must not fly. It is important, remember! Remember! The flock must stay with Our Other. Our Other has wings that cannot fly. Our Other is grounded. The flock must stay with Our Other, must protect Our Other. It is important. Our Other is important. Our Other will help the flock, so the flock must help Our Other. Our Other is part of the flock.

There is a sound. She Who Fights honks. It is danger. Danger is close, too close to the flock. A fox approaches. The flock must defend, must protect Our Other and the flock.

Defend the flock. _Hiss_.

Bunch up. _Hiss_.

Lower necks. _Hiss_.

Spread wings.

 _Hiss_. _Hiss_. _Hiss._

Our Other walks towards the fox, walks towards the danger.

 _Honk_! _Honk_! Danger! Danger!

Our Other does not listen to the flock. Our Other does not fear the danger. But the fox fears Our Other. The fox runs away. The danger is gone. No more need to defend, no more need to bunch. No more need to lower our necks or spread our wings or hiss. The fox is gone, the danger is gone.

The flock can walk on.

The flock must walk. The flock should not fly, must not fly. It is important, remember! Remember!

Our Other must eat. She Who Knows finds food for Our Other, to feed to Our Other. The food is good, with many legs. But Our Other does not eat. Our Other does not like the good food. The flock should not fly, must not fly. It is important, remember! But Our Other must eat. She Who Steals flies, flies far to find more good food, food for Our Other. Good food that Our Other will like. Our Other must eat. Our Other does eat. Our Other likes the far good food. This is important, remember! Remember!

She Who Leads stops, so the flock must stop. There are two paths, two paths to follow. But the flock can follow only one. The flock cannot split up, must not split up. The flock must stay together, together with Our Other. To protect Our Other. To help Our Other. It is important. Our Other is important. Our Other is part of the flock. The flock can follow only one path.

She Who Leads must choose the path. The flock will follow She Who Leads. One path smells different. It is not the same as the forest. It is a good smell, a better smell than their path. The new path smells of water, of ponds, of swimming. The path smells of reeds, of plants, of foods. Of air and of clouds and of sky. She Who Leads must choose the path. The flock will follow She Who Leads. She Who Leads picks the new path with the good smell.

The flock can walk on.

She Who Honks wants to rest. But She Who Honks cannot rest, should not rest, must not rest. The flock must walk. The flock should not fly, must not fly. It is important, remember! Our Other has wings that cannot fly. Our Other is grounded. The flock must stay with Our Other. The flock must not fly. She Who Honks must wait to rest but does not wait to rest. She Who Honks sits on the hard path, the rough path. The path that hurts the feet.

But the path hurts the feet no more. The path is not hard, not rough. The path feels different. The path is smooth, the path is soft. The path makes She Who Honks sleepy. She Who Honks wants to rest, wants to sleep, _needs_ to sleep. She Who Honks must not sleep. The flock must walk on. She Who Honks must be woken. Our Other tries to wake She Who Honks. Our Other nudges She Who Honks. She Who Honks sleeps on. Our Other is too gentle.

She Who Steals is not gentle.

 _Bite_.

She Who Honks hisses. She Who Honks is mad. She Who Honks is awake.

The flock can walk on.

She Who Knows finds more food for Our Other, good food that Our Other likes. Our Other eats the good food. It is far good food, the same good food. But it is far no more. She Who Knows did not fly, but She Who Knows still finds good food. The good food tastes different, but Our Other likes the taste. And She Who Steals likes the taste. She Who Steals takes the good food that Our Other likes. She Who Knows is not gentle.

 _Bite_.

She Who Steals still eats the good food.

There is a sound. She Who Fights honks. It is danger. Danger is close, too close to the flock. There is a new smell, a strange smell.

It is Other.


	24. Feathered Chapter 23

Chapter Twenty-Three: Feathered

 _Raia_

Raia heard Thaleia's warning honk alerting them to the presence of danger only a split second before the sound of cantering hooves echoed on the path behind them. Though the cadence told her that it was but a single horseman approaching, Raia's heart clenched with fear at the thought that one of Soran's men had at last caught up to them. It was the moment that Raia had been dreading. As she had feared, her sisters had taken up defensive positions at the sound of Thaleia's signal, circling together and hissing as they had been doing for the last week or so. Raia would have no time to herd her sisters into the underbrush before the cantering horseman was upon them.

She was ducking into the shadows herself when she realized an even greater danger: her sisters were standing in the very center of the path. 'They'll be trampled!' she realized in horror.

Raia had but a moment to act. She leaped out of the shadows and back onto the forest path, placing herself in front of her swan sisters just as a huge gray horse cantered around the curve with his rider. Raia threw her arms open wide to block as much of the path—and her sisters—as she could. She heard the startled shout of the rider and the frightened whinny of his horse, and she scrunched her eyes shut tightly, bracing herself for what seemed to her an inevitable impact.

The impact never came.

Raia opened one eye slightly, peeking out from under her eyelashes at the horseman. She let out a silent sigh of relief. The rider had managed to stop his horse mere inches from where Raia stood, and he was now trying to calm his mount. As the stallion reared in protest, Raia felt a small, unwilling pang of guilt for startling the animal so thoroughly.

"Easy, boy!" The rider soothed, his deep voice far gentler than Raia had expected to hear. "Easy!"

Raia's immediate instinct was to take advantage of the horseman's distraction and make her escape unnoticed. She lowered her arms and glanced around for somewhere to run. Then she hesitated, looking over her shoulder at where her swan sisters were still bunched together in their defensive circle. Her heart sank. Though she might make it alone, she would never be able to outrun the horseman with her sisters in toe. And she couldn't— _wouldn't_ —leave without her sisters.

Raia turned to look once more at the horse and his rider, her eyes as cold as blocks of ice. She vowed silently not to make it easy for the man to return her to Soran. She flexed her fingers, preparing to scratch them deeply into the man's face as soon as he tried to grab her. She glanced quickly again at the group of swans, mentally willing them to help her attack as soon as the time was right.

'Bite him!' she thought fiercely, desperately hoping beyond hope that somehow, someway, _one_ of her sisters at least would be able to read her thoughts and come to her aid should she require help.

The rider had regained control of his mount and had turned his attention to Raia.

"Well now!" he said, his voice soft and even, as though Raia had not just appeared from nowhere and startled his horse half to death. "You're not what I expected to see, I can tell you that much."

Raia straightened her shoulders and lifted her chin proudly. She flexed her fingers once more, hiding the action behind the cover of her skirts.

'Aim for the eyes,' she thought to herself, and felt a slight twinge of guilt at her sudden bloodthirstiness. Thaleia would be proud, she knew.

The man made no move to dismount, or even to approach closer to Raia and her swan sisters. He patted his horse on the neck affectionately. "Here I thought Undertow and I were the only ones to ever use this path. But it seems I was wrong. It wouldn't be the first time, I suppose—or the last."

Raia's brow furrowed in confusion. Hadn't he been following them? Wasn't he _trying_ to capture them? Wasn't he one of Soran's men?

The rider dismounted. Raia tensed at the action, then noticed the man's clothes for the first time. A mere glance was enough to convince Raia of one thing: the rider was clearly _not_ Deturian. His clothes were made from a material that Raia had never seen before, a loose blowy fabric that looked soft to the touch. Rather than the standard shirt and breeches that she had become accustomed to seeing on the Kyorian and Deturian guardsmen, the man wore a rather long tunic over a baggy pair of pants. He had no metal breastplate or chain mail, but rather wore leather armor over his tunic to protect his chest. Again, Raia had yet to see the like of such equipment.

Her shoulders relaxed somewhat, though she still remained on high alert. While the man may not be Deturian, he _was_ still a stranger, and after events of recent past, Raia was disinclined to trust individuals with whom she was not already acquainted.

Not moving from her protective stance in front of her sisters, she studied the man standing before her on the path. Apart from his clothes, the man was of a darker complexion than the fairer-skinned Deturians. His shoulder-length hair was a deep brown, almost black in color, and was pulled back in a low ponytail. He had a handsome face, with a strong jaw and an aquiline nose that was just a tad too long. The strong features would have given his face a very serious appearance—possibly stern—had his expression not been so very amiable. His dark eyes crinkled at the corners with laugh lines as though he were well used to smiling. Even now, his lips twitched slightly, and Raia got the distinct impression that he was a bit amused by the near miss that they'd had.

'Soran smiled often as well.' Raia thought, tensing once more.

The man seemed to notice her unease. He stood with one hand resting on his horse's neck, his eyes flickering between Raia and her sisters with a curious expression.

"Well," he said slowly, "I suppose that I should apologize for coming so close to trampling you. I assure you—it was not intentional."

Raia—of course—made no response. Had she even been allowed to speak, she had no clue what she would have said. Was he expecting her to apologize for jumping out and startling his horse? Truth be told, she couldn't—and didn't—regret her actions. She had no idea whether or not the man would have kept riding had she not stepped in his way, even to the point of trampling five swans under his horse's feet.

The rider seemed slightly taken aback not to have been acknowledged at all in his apology. "Then again," he said, his voice slightly dry. "It's not every day that a woman nearly throws herself under my horse. And certainly not in order to save…" he paused slightly, his eyes falling once more on the bunch of swans hiding behind Raia's skirts. "Are they…swans?"

He paused long enough that Raia knew he was waiting for her to answer his question. Raia said nothing.

The man seemed to be even more perplexed by her continued silence, but kept on speaking as though she had responded all the same. "You see, I'm not the best hand at identifying species of birds. It's not really my forte." He confessed in a conversational tone, then patted his horse's neck again. "I'm more a horse-person myself. But excuse me, where are my manners? I'm Ayden."

Ayden stepped forward slightly and made as if to bow once more, but at his forward movement towards Raia, the five feathered princesses burst into action. The swans emerged from behind Raia's skirts and stood side-by-side to block the path, seeming to take offense at Ayden so much as approaching even one step closer to their sister. Their wings were spread wide and their beaks were open as they hissed in unison. The sight—and sound—of five full-grown swans coming at him threateningly seemed to give Ayden pause in his approach. He stopped immediately and bowed where he was, a deeper bow than the one he'd given previously.

Raia rested one of her hands on Thaleia's head in a calming gesture of thanks. She, too, would rather the stranger keep his distance.

Ayden rose from his bow. "I'm Ayden." He repeated, and then paused, clearly expecting once more for Raia to respond. When she didn't, he pressed, "And you are?"

Raia could not stop the exasperated look from crossing her face. The man was evidently _not_ going to accept her silence unless he believed it to be involuntary. She raised her hand and patted her throat gently. It took a few seconds, but at last she saw comprehension dawn on Ayden's face, followed by a look of embarrassment. He inclined his head once more. "My apologies, my lady. I did not know that you were…that you…that you couldn't speak."

Raia shrugged—a gesture that was completely lost on Ayden, as his head was still lowered in his bow. Ayden straightened, his eyes appraising her appearance. "I take it from your clothing that you are not from this area."

He gestured towards her dress, and Raia blushed slightly. Her gown was ripped and stained almost beyond recognition from weeks spent traipsing through the Deturian forest.

"And," Ayden mused slowly. "From the direction you're heading— _and_ the one you're coming from—I assume that you have just crossed the border from Deturus, and now you're on your way to present yourself to the royal palace as is custom. Am I correct?"

Raia did not respond. Her mind was too busy processing the words 'crossed the border'. Had she and her sisters made it out of Deturus and into Hiall without even realizing it? It certainly wasn't impossible. After all, the boundary between Kyoria and Deturus had been very subtly marked. It seemed entirely likely that the Hiall-Deturus border could be marked just as subtly, and that Raia and her sisters had simply missed seeing the marker entirely.

Raia's heart lightened at the thought. After weeks and weeks, they had finally escaped Deturus; they'd escaped from Soran's grasp.

They had reached Hiall. Now all that was left was to reach the palace and present herself and her situation— _their_ situation—to Queen Therese.

Her sisters shuffled their feet and honked softly among themselves, as though chattering to each other. They seemed to realize the significance of what Ayden was saying, and Raia was heartened by the idea that they could comprehend at least that much in their current avian state.

Raia patted Thaleia's head again for lack of anything else to do, then turned to follow the path once more. After all, there was nothing to keep her standing there apart from the stranger, and it didn't seem to her as though he really intended her any harm, or was even remotely aware of her original situation. That being the case, Raia doubted that this Ayden would attempt to stop her should she simply walk on with her sisters towards the Hiallan palace. More likely, she expected that he would continue on his way as well.

She and her sisters made to begin walking once more, and Raia's hands instinctively took up their normal knitting positions. She was nearly finished with the third shawl, though it had taken her much longer to knit than the first two. She was confident that she'd have it done before reaching Queen Therese.

"Wait!"

Raia paused a moment, her hands stopping their task as well. The swans—even Eurielle—were clearly not eager to stop again, especially not for the stranger. Thaleia hissed, her hackles already raised against the man. He took no notice as he approached a couple steps, leading his horse.

"At the rate you're going," he began conversationally. "It will take you at least a week to reach the castle on this path."

Raia's heart sank a little at the thought of another week of walking. Then she chided herself. Surely she and her sisters could handle another seven days. They had already been traveling for at least three times that length just to escape Deturus.

"But," Ayden continued, patting his horse's neck. "It is but a day and a half's ride on horseback. Undertow would not mind carrying two for such a short trip."

Raia looked at the horse. It was certainly a tempting offer, cutting their travel time by over half. Not to mention the miles of walking it would save her feet. And surely her sisters would be safe to fly again, now that they had left Deterus behind them…

Raia shook her head. Truth be told, she was not overly eager to gain a traveling companion—aside from her sisters, of course. Particularly not a male one. Raia could not help but feel suspicious of Ayden's generous offer—a distrust that she attributed to her recent experiences with Soran. She didn't know _this_ man from Adam. Hiallan he might be, but how could she be sure that Ayden wasn't Soran's man after all? Or that he didn't have some nefarious scheme in mind for her and her sisters? How did she know that _he_ didn't intend to lock her away as Soran had?

Ayden seemed slightly surprised at Raia's refusal of his suggestion, but he recovered quickly.

"Well then," he said, recovering quickly. "As we're going in the same direction, perhaps I might walk with you a ways." He took hold of his horse's reins and made to lead his mount forward. Both Thaleia and Petra rose up high on their feet, spreading their wings wide and hissing at Ayden furiously. He paused uncertainly as if reconsidering his request.

Raia hid a smirk.

But Ayden simply shrugged. "Or walk _near_ you a ways." He amended with a look at her feathered guards—a look that was half-wary, half-amused. "This really is not the best area of the forest to be walking alone, even when you have such… _fierce_ bodyguards."

Raia could have sworn she saw all five of her sisters puff out their chests in pride at Ayden's description of them as her bodyguards. She hid her dismay at his words. She couldn't very well argue with the man, seeing as how she couldn't speak to him at all. Neither could she really prevent him from walking on the same path that she and her sisters were following.

Raia was not entirely certain at first what response she should give him, but then she settled for giving him no response whatsoever. She simply turned her back on him once more and continued walking. The combined sound behind her of footsteps as well as hoofbeats told her that Ayden was following on foot, and was likely leading his horse behind him. Like it or not, she had a—what did one call a stowaway when on foot? Raia's shoulders were tense, and she hated keeping her back to him. All the same, she was convinced that she would be in no real danger of attack from behind. Her conviction was due less to feeling an implacable trust in Ayden's honesty—as trust him, she did not—than to the certainty that her swan sisters remained just as alert to his presence as she was. Raia had no doubt that if the man tried anything funny, or approached even a step too close to the group of princesses, her sisters—Thaleia especially—would make sure that he regretted his decision most heartedly.

A moment later, Thaleia herself confirmed Raia's prediction, after Ayden strayed a little too near the princesses for the swan's comfort. Raia's twin responded to his trespass with a mighty lunge, and a violent bite to his right leg.

"Ow!" he cried in pain and surprise. "Can't you call off the attack birds?"

Raia's only response was a shrug. She couldn't—and she wouldn't. The stranger would just have to learn the hard way to keep his distance.

Another "ow!" sounded from behind and Raia smirked, her eyes still fixed on her knitting. Yes, he would learn the hard way, indeed. Her sisters would see to that.


	25. Feathered Chapter 24

Chapter Twenty-Four: Feathered

 _The Swans_

It is light.

It is light and there is pain.

Then it is over.

The flock walks on the ground behind She Who Leads. Walks around Our Other. The flock surrounds Our Other. Protects Our Other. Our Other must be protected. There is Other Other now. Other Other follows behind. Always behind. Always walking on the ground next to the horse with feet that hurt, that kick, that crush. The flock must beware the feet that crush. The flock must not be crushed. Beware! Beware!

The flock must beware Other Other, for the flock does not know Other Other. Other Other is strange and stranger to Our Other and the flock. Our Other does not trust Other Other. The flock does not trust Other Other. Though Other Other does not smell bad. She Who Knows likes to smell Other Other. Smells nice. Smells kind. Smiles nice. Smiles kind. Eyes nice. Eyes kind.

But the flock must beware Other Other. The flock does not know Other Other. The flock must stay with Our Other, must protect Our Other. It is important. Our Other is important. Our Other will help the flock. The flock must help Our Other. Our Other is part of the flock. The flock must stay with Our Other, must protect Our Other. Protect from Other Other.

She Who Fights does not like Other Other. Other Other bad for sure. She Who Fights is not gentle. _Bite_.

Other Other comes too close to Our Other. _Bite._

Talks to Our Other. _Bite._

Watches Our Other. _Bite._

Smiles at Our Other. _Bite._

Looks at Our Other. _Bite. Bite. Bite._

She Who Steals wants to protect Our Other, too. _Hiss_. _Bite_. Does not like to bite Other Other. Other Other tastes bad. Hurts teeth. She Who Steals hurts to bite Other Other. And Other Other has shinies. Shinies are pretty. Shinies are shiny. She Who Steals likes the shinies, wants the shinies, needs the shinies. She Who Steals takes the shinies. Other Other tries to take the shinies from She Who Steals. Bite. Mistake. Other Other tastes bad. Hurts teeth. She Who Steals hurts to bite Other Other.

The flock does not like the ground, does not like to walk. But the flock must walk. Walk on and on and on. She Who Honks wants to rest. The flock cannot rest, must not rest. The flock must walk. The path makes She Who Honks sleepy. She Who Honks wants to rest, wants to sleep, _needs_ to sleep. Cannot sleep on the path. The flock will not let her sleep on the path. The flock must walk. Walk on and on and on. But She Who Honks can sleep if she walks, too. She Who Honks sleeps on the horse, the back of the horse with feet that hurt, that kick, that crush. Sleeps while the horse walks, and then She Who Honks does not need to walk. The horse will walk for She Who Honks. And She Who Honks stays with the flock. With the flock and Our Other. And with Other Other. Other Other who lets She Who Honks sleep on the horse with feet that hurt, that kick, that crush. Other Other who is strange and stranger. Who smells nice and kind. Smiles nice and kind. With eyes nice and kind. Other Other with the shinies that She Who Steals can keep. Other Other walks behind the flock. Always behind.

The flock can walk on.


	26. Feathered Chapter 25

Chapter Twenty-Five: Feathered

 _Raia_

After weeks of silence and isolation from other people—not counting her sisters—Raia felt exhausted listening to another human talk again. It wasn't as though Ayden was exactly garrulous; he was nowhere near as chatty as Eurielle, even on her quietest day. Nor was he even as talkative as Thaleia could be when she started discussing—or ranting, really—on one of her favorite subjects. Yet Raia found it difficult to concentrate on following Ayden's one-sided conversation; she'd quite simply fallen out of practice when it came to listening to someone— _anyone_ —speak. And while there was nothing really forcing her to pay attention to Ayden, she couldn't help feeling a sense of obligation to remain at least polite enough to make the effort to listen.

Darn her manners.

Not that it was entirely a sacrifice. Truth be told, Raia was pleasantly surprised by how quickly the rest of the day passed after Ayden joined her and her sisters as their walking companion. Once he understood that the swans—and Raia—preferred that he keep his distance, he was scrupulous in trying to put all of the princesses—both human and swan—at their ease. He made sure to keep a respectable distance between himself and Raia at all times, so as not to be attacked by her territorial companions. While this meant that Ayden had to travel behind the group of princesses, he did not seem overly bothered at having to raising his voice just a tad in order to be heard by Raia.

Though he initially began by trying to ask questions of Raia, Ayden quickly realized that the effort was futile. She responded to his yes-or-no questions with a noncommittal shrug— _if_ she responded to them at all. Seeing that this form of topic was going nowhere, Ayden began to tell her stories in order to fill the silence as they walked. Many of the stories he told were ones that she recognized as slightly different versions of bedtime tales she'd been told as a girl in Kyoria. She supposed that the variations between the Kyorian and Hiallan versions of the fairy tales were reflective of the different cultures of the people shaping and telling the tales. Whatever the case, Raia found the stories fascinating—and she was not the only one. After only a couple of hours, Callia had taken to walking nearest to Ayden, head cocked as though listening to him speak. Eurielle had also begun riding on the back of Ayden's horse to be spared the task of walking, and Raia was certain that the youngest swan princess was listening avidly to all of the stories being told. Ayden had a natural gift for storytelling that was almost equal to Callia's, and Raia found herself mentally painting in her mind's eye some of the most vividly described scenes. Her fingers—knitting still—seemed to develop a phantom cramp, as if they longed for the paintbrush that they hadn't held in so long.

With such entertainment, Raia was almost surprised to note that the sun was beginning to set—a clear indication that it was time to make camp for the night. Here, too, Ayden proved to be a more valuable companion than Raia had initially realized. He was very proficient at lighting a fire for warmth—something that Raia had not attempted for the entirely of her journey, due to her fear of the light being spotted from afar. He also carried a small supply of food in his saddlebags, which included a strange type of flat bread and some kind of dried meat. Raia's mouth watered as Ayden offered her some of the jerky. She had not had any such protein in her diet since near the beginning of their journey, when Petra had still been pilfering food for her from houses and farms on the edge of the Deturian forest.

Raia sat with her back against a tree as she ate, with her sisters foraging around her for their own dinner. Ayden settled himself on the ground a good five feet away from the princesses. He did not dare to approach any closer; Raia was sure that the man's kneecaps were already well covered with bite marks courtesy of the swan sisters.

For the first several minutes, the strange company sat in silence, with the only audible sounds being the sound of chewing, the wind rustling through the trees and, occasionally, the soft clickety-clack of Raia's knitting needles. Even the swans seemed to have taken on the same silent vow as Raia, as not a single one of the five emitted so much as a peep, let alone a honk.

It was Ayden who broke the silence at last. "I have to say that it's rather unfortunate that I don't know your name. Isn't there any way you could write it down for me?"

Raia spared him a quick glance, but made no response. There was no way on earth that she was going to give her name to anyone she'd known for less than a day, not unless she was _absolutely certain_ that he was an ally. And in spite of how pleasant a companion Ayden seemed to be, she still had a couple of doubts in regards to how trustworthy he actually was.

"I'll take that as a no, then." His voice was regretful.

 _Clickety-clack_ , went Raia's needles, and nothing else for a long moment. When Ayden spoke again, there was a hint of eagerness in his voice.

"Then…would you mind if I chose a name for you? Just to have something to call you?"

Raia paused in her knitting, a mite shocked at his presumption. He wanted to choose a name for her? What was she, his pet? Still, presumptuous though he may be, she couldn't deny the inherent logic in his request. There was really no reasonable excuse for him not to call her by _something_ , even if it was by a fake name of his own invention. She shrugged noncommittally, her hands moving once more.

"Great!" The smile in Ayden's voice was evident, though Raia did not look up at him to see it. "Then I'll call you by…let's see…"

Raia could only guess that Ayden was having a hard time deciding by what name to call her, for he did not offer any suggestions for a full ten minutes at least.

"Svana!" he said at last in a triumphant tone. The five swans had become accustomed to the silence around the group, and all jumped at the sudden reemergence of Ayden's voice. Again, Raia paused in her knitting. If her basic language lessons served her correctly, 'svana' was the word for _swan_ in several different languages. Her eyes flew to her sisters waddling beside her, and she smirked a bit. It had taken the man ten minutes to come up with _that_? He might just as well have called her 'Birdy' for his lack of originality. The artist in Raia highly disapproved.

Still, she shrugged again, and Ayden took this as indication of her agreement—or at least, as a lack of _dis_ agreement.

"So, Svana." he began conversationally, and Raia raised her eyes from her knitting, lifting them up towards heaven. Mercy, could he not let her knit in peace?

Ayden must have glimpsed her exasperated expression, as he did not finish his sentence. The subsequent silence bothered Raia more than she expected, and she found herself wondering what he had been about to say. At last, her curiosity got the best of her. She lowered her knitting and glanced up to look at Ayden, her eyebrows raised expectantly.

He seemed to be waiting for just such an opening. He grinned and patted the saddlebag resting at his side.

"I have my rhaita with me. Do you mind if I play?"

Raia's eyebrows furrowed in confusion. A rhaita? She'd never heard the word before, and could only assume that the differences in culture were once again revealing themselves.

Ayden evidently read the unspoken question on her face. "It's an instrument." He explained to her, reaching into his saddlebag and removing the item in question. "I take it they don't have rhaitas in Deturus."

Raia shook her head and stared at the instrument curiously. The body of the instrument was rather long and thin around the middle, and then widened to a bell-like shape at the end. It was a beautiful model, made of a reddish wood and polished to a shiny finish so that it gleamed by the light of the campfire.

The sight of the strange instrument seemed to have awoken something in Eurielle. The swan immediately stopped foraging, and nestled herself on the ground facing Ayden, her expression almost expectant. Ayden regarded the bird's actions with more than a little surprise. Raia, however, was heartened by her sister's evident eagerness to hear the music that Ayden was offering to play. She welcomed such obvious evidence that Eurielle hadn't become _entirely_ swanlike; the youngest princess still maintained her love of all things musical despite her avian form.

Ayden needed no other encouragement than a willing audience, be they human or bird. He began to play.

The tone of the rhaita was haunting, and the melody of the song even more so. Raia felt goosebumps rise up on her arms, and her knitting lay forgotten in her lap as she let the music wash over her. She closed her eyes as she listened to the melancholy air.

Raia's eyes were slightly damp by the end of the song. She blinked them rapidly to dry the moisture. A quick glance around the campsite told her that she had clearly not been the only one to be moved by the music. The sound of Ayden's playing had caused all five of her sisters—not just Eurielle—to pause in their eating in order to listen to the beautiful melody. Eurielle had inched closer to Ayden as he played, putting her within his arm's reach—far closer than any of the swans had dared to venture thus far, apart from when they were attacking. Ayden had closed his eyes as well while playing his instrument. On reopening his eyes, he was startled and looked slightly apprehensive to find one of the swans sitting so close to him.

Raia applauded softly but genuinely. The sound of her clapping echoed slightly. Finding the noise slightly jarring in the night stillness, she stopped after bringing her hands together only a couple of times. Still, Ayden seemed highly gratified by the indication of her appreciation. He smiled softly at the instrument, then at her.

"That's my favorite tune." He admitted quietly. "My mother would often sing it to me at night."

Raia bunched her hands around her knitting, almost welcoming the slight sting of the nettle yarn to which she had become so accustomed over the last month or so. For the first time since meeting Ayden earlier that day, she felt the heaviness of their silence. She wished that it were possible for her to break it. She wanted to be able to talk about the music, and to ask— _gently_ —about his mother. She sensed from his tone that he had perhaps also experienced the loss of _his_ mother as she had hers, so long ago. Raia would have liked to comfort him somehow, or simply to share their experiences with each other.

But she couldn't. Not without speaking.

She caught Ayden's eye and smiled slightly, before gesturing towards his rhaita in a silent invitation to play the same song again. He nodded at her gratefully, seeming to understand her meaning perfectly, before taking up his instrument once more. Raia picked up the forgotten shawl and resumed knitting as the strains of music rang out across the clearing, echoing deep into the night.


	27. Feathered Chapter 26

Chapter Twenty-Six: Feathered

 _The Swans_

It is light.

It is light and there is pain, but not much.

Then it is gone.

The flock walks on the ground behind She Who Leads. Walks around Our Other, in front of Other Other. The flock does not like the ground. The flock does not like to walk. The flock wants to fly, _needs_ to fly. But no! The flock should not fly, must not fly! It is important, remember! Remember! The flock must stay with Our Other and now Other Other. Our Other is part of the flock. Other Other is not part of the flock, but is with the flock. And Others cannot fly. Others have wings that cannot fly. Others are grounded. The flock must stay with Our Other and Other Other on the ground. Must walk with Our Other and Other Other.

She Who Honks does not walk. She Who Honks sits on the horse with feet that crush. Sits and sleeps. Sleeps and snores, snores little honks. When She Who Honks does not sleep, She Who Honks listens. Listens to Other Other. Other Other makes music, beautiful music. She Who Honks loves the music. She Who Honks likes Other Other. Other Other is not bad. Other Other smells good, smiles nice, eyes kind. Other Other is good.

She Who Knows likes Other Other too. Other Other speaks to Our Other. Other Other speaks nice, sounds nice. Laughs nice. Other Other is good. Other Other likes Our Other, and the flock loves Our Other. Our Other is important, and Other Other is kind. Other Other is good.

Other Other had shinies, but now She Who Steals has the shinies. All the shinies. Shinies from Other Other. Shinies taken from Other Other. Other Other does not take the shinies back. She Who Steals keeps the shinies. She Who Steals is pleased. Other Other has learned. Other Other is smart. Other Other knows not to take the shinies from She Who Steals. She Who Steals is pleased.

She Who Fights is not pleased. She Who Fights still does not like Other Other. Other Other is danger. Danger close to Our Other, talking to Our Other. Smiling at Our Other. Other Other likes Our Other, but She Who Fights does not like Other Other. Our Other is ours. Our Other is part of the flock. Other Other is not part of the flock, but is with the flock. Other Other should not be with the flock. Other Other is good, yes, but Other Other does not belong with the flock.

She Who Leads sees Our Other is pleased with the flock, pleased with Other Other. She Who Leads likes Other Other. Other Other speaks to Our Other, smiles at Our Other. Other Other is not bad. Not Dark Other. Other Other is kind, is nice, is good. She Who Leads trusts Other Other. Our Other can trust Other Other.

The flock can trust Other Other.


	28. Feathered Chapter 27

Chapter Twenty-Seven: Feathered

 _Raia_

On the third morning, Raia was packing up her few belongings to begin walking again when she realized that something was different. She stiffened, glancing around the clearing nervously. There, Ayden was kicking dirt over the campfire in an attempt to extinguish the still glowing coals. That couldn't be counted as out of the ordinary. There were no odd sounds in the vicinity—not anything _she_ could hear, at least. And if there were anything nearby, Raia was certain that her sisters would have made a fuss long before she would have sensed it, anyway. But they remained oblivious to any disturbances, scratching at the ground and snatching up weeds in their beaks. So what was the problem?

Then it hit her.

Her gaze swept over the swans wandering the campsite and she counted them mentally. _One, two, three, four_...

Raia's mouth dropped open in horror. _Where was Cliodne_?

She dropped her pouch and spun around, looking wildly in all directions for any sign of her fifth sister. Why were the other swans not as worried as she was by Cliodne's disappearance? Had they really not noticed? Or didn't they even care? Panic filled her chest. _Where was she?_

"Looking for something?"

Ayden's voice sounded amused, and Raia turned to face him with her face filled with anger. _Did he find her panic funny_? Then she followed his gaze, and her legs buckled under her in relief.

There was Cliodne, perched on the saddle of Ayden's horse and looking for all the world as though she had always been there. Raia nearly cried at the sight of her. Her worry had been brief, but intense nevertheless.

Ayden stood with his hands on his hips. His lips quirked to the side as he regarded the swan with an expression that was highly amused. He glanced back at Raia.

"I think at least one of your bodyguards might be warming up to me, don't you think?" He commented with a small laugh.

Raia's smile was faint, and her mind was racing. She knew her sisters better than anyone. While she knew that Ayden spoke the truth in regards to how they—and _she_ —were slowly coming to trust him, she could also read between the lines, and knew that Cliodne's choice of perch was anything but coincidental. She recognized the colossal hint that her sister was trying to send her, and had to admit to experiencing profound relief at this evidence of her elder sister's blessing.

Raia picked up the pouch she'd dropped and walked over to the horse, stopping only when she'd drawn level with Undertow's stirrups. Cliodne tilted her white head to look down from her perch on the saddle, and then jumped gracefully down to the ground, fluttering her wings to keep balance. Raia turned to look at where Ayden stood watching her with a bemused expression on his face. She touched the saddle lightly with one hand, and then placed the other on her own chest.

Ayden looked puzzled for a moment, but then comprehension dawned in his eyes.

"We'd reach the castle mid-afternoon if we rode. On foot, it would take another couple of days." He told her. Raia nodded, and then patted the saddle decisively. She— _they_ —would ride.

For a moment, Raia thought that Ayden looked almost disappointed at the idea, but his expression quickly cleared. He smiled at her just as cheerfully as ever, and walked to stand beside the mount as well. He looked apprehensive, and Raia suspected that he was expecting her swan sisters—or more accurately, _Thaleia_ —to attack him at any moment for daring to approach so close to her. But that morning, Ayden remained unscathed.

Ayden stepped right up beside Raia and for the first time, she realized how tall he was. He wasn't a giant by any stretch of the word, but Raia still had to crane her neck back a bit in order to hold his gaze. She hadn't noticed before, but his eyes were a rather lovely shade of cocoa brown. There was an unreadable expression in their depths as he looked at her—a curious expression, as though a puzzling revelation had only just occurred to him in that moment. Raia felt a strange fluttering sensation deep in her chest that she couldn't remember ever experiencing before.

Ayden tilted his head towards the horse. "Shall I help you up?" he asked her, his voice soft. Raia felt a moment of indecision, then of panic. Was he simply talking about giving her a leg up, or was he planning on lifting her into the saddle, as some of the Kyorian guards had occasionally done? Truth be told, Raia was not certain of being able to handle the latter option; she felt a nervous fear at the idea of Ayden carrying her, even if it _were_ only to lift her onto the horse's back.

She shook her head, smiling slightly in an attempt to lighten her refusal of his offer. Again, Raia thought she caught a look of disappointment cross Ayden's face. She dismissed the idea, and made to mount up onto the horse. Mounting Undertow on her own was an easier task than what she was expecting, as the ripped state of her dress prevented her skirts from becoming tangled around her legs. Once she was firmly settled in the saddle, Ayden mounted as well to sit behind her on the horse's back. He reached his hands to either side of her to take the reins, encircling her body with his arms. Raia felt her face heat slightly at their proximity. To her, he smelled not of the forest of which she was becoming quite tired, but rather of the smell of the leather armor he always wore. She had to admit that she found the scent quite pleasant. Her face heated even more, if that was possible. It felt as though she had stuck her face close to a campfire.

Ayden kicked the horse first into a trot, and then into a slow, lumbering canter. Raia gripped the horse tightly with her knees. She was unused to the sensation of riding with her feet hanging loosely by the horse's side, rather than resting in the stirrups. She glanced behind her and past Ayden's face, so close to her own, craning her neck to watch her sisters. The swans rose into the air with joyful honks, flapping their wings eagerly as they lifted higher and higher into the sky. Raia had a moment's panic. What if they should leave, just fly off and disappear from her sight, never to be seen again? What would she do then?

But as always, the swan sisters seemed to be drawn to accompany Raia, and kept pace above her as the horse cantered on. Though they were not actually traveling at Undertow's top speed, Raia marveled at how quickly they were covering ground. After weeks of walking at a snail's pace—or rather, a _swan's_ pace—riding on horseback seemed to positively swallow the ground underneath them. Her body adjusted easily to the rhythmic motion of the horse, and she welcomed the refreshingly brisk breeze that caressed her face. Raia felt a bit sheepish. Had she not been so suspicious, they could have been riding like this several days ago, and probably would have already reached the Hiallan palace by then.

Raia looked up at her sisters flying far above them. The swans were certainly enjoying this change in their routine as well; they swooped in large loop-the-loops, wove in and out of the clouds, and dive-bombed each other in play. Raia smiled at the sight. She suspected that the endless walking had been much harder on her sisters than it had been for her. _They_ had been capable of flying without being able to capitalize on their ability—at least, not while there had still been a risk of being spotted, and subsequently recaptured by Soran's men. Now, they were free to spread their wings and fly as they wished. Their joy in this newfound freedom was palpable, and Raia's heart lightened at the sight.

The only downside that Raia found was that she could no longer knit while they traveled—not that she didn't try, of course. But however smooth the rhythm of the horse's movements appeared to be, her hands were still jostled a little too much for her to adequately control the motions of her needles. After her third dropped stitch on the same row, Raia gave up all attempts. She tucked away the unfinished shawl, and tried to simply enjoy the ride in the fresh morning air.

Raia picked up her knitting again when the group stopped for their midday meal, which consisted of dried jerky once more. Even after three days of eating the same fare, she still relished the taste of the protein. Ayden, however, seemed more than apathetic as to the flavor, and Raia suspected that he was already dreaming of the moment when he would again be able to taste fresh food. She was surprised, therefore, when he appeared reticent to continue on their way immediately after they finished eating.

"Might as well let your bodyguards eat a bit longer," he told Raia, his voice casual. He leaned his back up against a tree and stretched his legs out straight in front of him. Raia glanced at her sisters with raised eyebrows. All but one—Thaleia—had already finished foraging for their lunch, and were nestled on the ground. Callia and Petra sat grooming their feathers with their beaks, while Eurielle had her head tucked under her wing, and looked in serious danger of falling asleep then and there. Ayden followed her gaze, and then looked at her with a sheepish expression.

"Or we could get going now." He admitted, sitting upright and then rising to his feet in one smooth motion. He held out a hand to Raia and, slightly surprised, she took it. Once on her feet, she busied her hands—and her eyes—by stuffing her knitting away once more, eager to avoid Ayden's gaze.

Ayden adjusted the stirrups on Undertow's saddle while Raia herded together her swan sisters. Eurielle, she had to nudge awake with her foot. In a matter of moments, all six princesses—swan _and_ human—were awake and ready to travel on. Already mounted, Ayden held out his hand and pulled Raia up into the saddle in front of him. The swans lifted around them into the air, and the party was off once more.

The sun was still high in the sky when they crested the last hill and Ayden brought the horse to a stop. Raia caught her breath in amazement. Sprawled before them was a huge city, full of buildings with spiky roofs and winding streets crowded with moving figures. In the center of the city was an enormous palace with a domed roof made of what _looked_ like solid gold. The roof was dazzling in the afternoon sun. Light sparkled off the exterior and for a moment, Raia was blinded by the reflection in her eyes.

The Hiallan palace. It had to be.

At any given moment, Raia expected Ayden to stop the horse to let her off, so that he could continue on his way towards his home while she walked on to the palace. However, this was not the case. Ayden kept them riding at a slow walk right down the main thoroughfare, as if he were intending on escorting Raia to the palace personally. Raia had no voice with which to tell him that this was unnecessary—kind of him, certainly, but unnecessary.

Fingers pointed as they rode the horse into the city. Raia was not surprised that they were drawing so much attention; after all, her sisters still lingered above them, following Raia like trained birds. She had a feeling that very few people in the world—let alone in Hiall—had ever seen a party that was composed almost entirely of swans.

Raia _was_ slightly surprised, however, by the attention that Ayden seemed to be attracting from these same people. Many of the citizens that they passed smiled broadly at the sight of him, waving to him in a friendly greeting, and sometimes blowing a kiss. Ayden returned many of these gestures good-naturedly, and Raia could only assume that he was very well-known—and well-liked—in his home city, as nearly everyone seemed to recognize him.

"Good to see you, Your Highness!"

Raia started at the shout and her eyes scanned the crowds of people for the person who had recognized her. Yet she saw no familiar faces. Then she realized that the shout had been directed not at her, but at Ayden.

 _Your Highness_?

Raia looked back over her shoulder at Ayden, her shock registering clearly on her face. Ayden caught her gaze and smiled.

"You never asked." He told her, his voice sounding a bit mischievous. Her look turned stern, Ayden's lips quirked to the side a bit as he remembered her apparent muteness. "Oh. Right."

Raia turned to face forward once more, but her eyes saw nothing of the city streets before her. Ayden was royalty? But that wasn't possible. From everything she'd heard, the Hiallan royal family had always been similar to her own; Queen Therese and the king consort had only ever had daughters—three of them, to be precise. All three were much older than Raia and her own sisters, and as of six months ago, _none_ of the three had yet been married.

As they neared the palace, Raia's gaze fixed on the crest of arms emblazoned in gold on the palace gates. It looked nothing like the pictures of the Hiallan crest that she'd seen in books; instead of the Hiallan pine tree, the crest depicted a rearing steed, surrounded by spiky ocean waves. Raia's eyes widened, and her mouth fell open in horror. She recognized that emblem, and she knew exactly what it meant. They weren't in Hiall.

They were in Ithcar.


	29. Fate Chapter 28

**Part Four: Fate**

Chapter Twenty-Eight: Fate

 _Ayden_

For the first time, Ayden regretted his position sitting behind Svana on the horse's back, as he couldn't see her face at all. He knew that she had been surprised when the townspeople had referred to him as "Your Highness" when they had passed, and to be perfectly honest, he had no clue how he would go about explaining _why_ he had kept that particular subject to himself for the past several days.

In fact, he didn't rightly know himself what his initial motivation had been for keeping his identity—or his title, at least—a secret. Perhaps suspicion? After all, he _had_ found her travelling alone in the forest close to the border, with only a couple of pet swans for protection.

'Overprotection, more like.' Ayden thought to himself, ruefully picturing the many bruises that he had accumulated over the last several days as a result of the swans' vicious bites.

But while he may have initially suspected Svana and her pet swans to have some nefarious purpose for travelling from Deturus into Ithcar, this fear had not lasted long. The longer he accompanied her on the road, the more Ayden had become convinced that the only thing that she sought in coming to Ithcar was _help_ —though he did not know for what. And the more time Ayden spent with her, the more _he_ wanted to be the one to help her.

Which might have become even more difficult, now she had found out that he had been lying to her about his identity—or at least, withholding the truth.

Ayden nodded cordially to the guards who greeted him at the entrance to the palace. Erol and Jarryd were both friends from Ayden's childhood, having been among those to tutor him in the art of swordplay as a boy. In fact, Ayden knew many of the guards by name, as well as the majority of the servants who worked in the palace. As a child, Ayden had been encouraged to mingle with the palace staff with the expectation that he would report any hint of sedition overheard to his grandfather, King Mikal—though Ayden never actually did. A most suspicious and paranoid ruler, the now late King Mikal had not been known for his mercy. Following Mikal's death and the ascension of his son—Naaman, Ayden's father—to the throne barely two years prior, the genuine friendships that Ayden had cultivated as a child had finally been allowed to blossom openly and genuinely. Though strict in many ways, Naaman was also considered to be a just ruler, and was far less paranoid than his father had been.

Reining Undertow to a stop in the middle of the courtyard, Ayden dismounted and then turned to help Svana down from the saddle as well. He marveled at how natural the action felt, especially seeing as how he had not been allowed to touch her—or even _approach_ her—for the first two days of their acquaintance. Her swans had seen to that.

He looked up at the birds now, grinning as he saw them all circling and preparing to land. Despite everything, Ayden felt a certain softness towards Svana's pets. He didn't blame them, really, for their protectiveness. If anything, he found it to be endearing, almost… _human_.

And they did appreciate good music.

There was a small ruckus in the courtyard as the swans descended. A number of people rushed to move out of the way of the large, flapping white wings. Ayden glanced down at Svana, and saw that her eyes were wide and frightened. She barely seemed to notice her beloved pet swans as she looked at the bustling people around her, and at the palace towering over her. Clearly, the girl was not used to seeing such grandeur.

Ayden placed a calming hand on her arm, and Svana's anxious gaze fixed on him.

"Come." He told her gently. "I'll show you to a room where you can… _ready_ yourself to face my father."

Svana's eyes widened even more, if that was possible. Ayden could have bitten his tongue clean off. Why hadn't he told her before— _warned_ her—that he was the prince? She seemed overwhelmed and intimidated by everything now, even him.

He gestured to several servants to approach. They did so eagerly, grinning as they stared between him and Svana. Ayden's mouth quirked to the side, amused. Knowing the staff as he did, he had no doubt that rumors would soon be flying around the palace about the strangely-dressed girl that he had brought home with him. He knew that he would have a lot of questions to field that evening from several of the servants.

Not to mention from his mother, Queen Melani.

Ayden felt Svana's arm shake almost unperceptively as he spoke to the servants.

"I will show the lady to the west corridor guest chambers," he said. "If you would please see that the proper garments are delivered to that chamber, so that Lady…Svana can address the king as soon as possible." Ayden hesitated at her name, only just remembering that it was not, in fact, her _real_ name. He mentally kicked himself for not pressing Svana to tell him her actual name that morning; he had a feeling that, had he remembered to ask, she just might have written it down for him at last. Now, it would be more difficult—and awkward—to explain his ignorance to his parents.

Ayden shrugged it off, and then nodded his head towards Svana's swan companions. "Oh, and please show the lady's… _retinue_ …to the castle gardens. I'm sure that they will enjoy the sizable lake back there."

Ayden did not stick around to see the servants' reactions to this strange request. Tugging Svana gently forward, he mounted the steps to show her to her chambers. Svana glanced behind her at her swans, her expression alarmed. Ayden patted her arm reassuringly.

"Don't worry." He told her. "They'll be fine in the gardens. In fact, I'm sure they will be more than happy there. And you can visit them just as soon as you've seen the king—it's custom not to keep him waiting _too_ long."

Ayden left Svana in her new chambers with the promise to send someone to fetch her directly once she was ready to greet the king. He then hurried to his father's chambers, thinking to prepare the king for the subsequent meeting as well. He was determined to ensure that it would go as smoothly as possible.

Knocking lightly on the door, Ayden entered his parents' bedchamber with the same anxious anticipation as he always felt. His worry faded, however, at the sight of his mother sitting upright in her bed. Queen Melani's face was tired, but her eyes were clear save for only a hint of pain. She was clearly having a good day.

Sitting in his usual position at his wife's bedside, King Naaman rose to his feet on seeing Ayden enter through the doorway. Relief filled his face at the sight of his son.

"Son!" he exclaimed, striding over to the door and embracing the prince. "We'd been wondering where you'd got to!"

Queen Melani beckoned to the two men to come closer to her bed so that she could grasp Ayden's hand with her own. Her voice was surprisingly strong for her appearance, with a hint of the same humor that Ayden had inherited. "You see, Naaman? I told you there was nothing to fear!"

Naaman let out a dry laugh.

"'Just a couple days,' you'd said! It's been a week, at least!" He held his son by the shoulders. "Did you run into trouble? Get lost? You are your mother's son, after all."

Queen Melani laughed at that as well. Ayden's sense of direction was the best in the kingdom—yet another trait that he _had_ inherited from her, in fact. However, the _king's_ skills at navigation were a different story, not to mention a poorly kept secret.

Ayden smiled and shook his head at the two of them. "Nothing like that." He said. "I just…I got tied up as an… _escort_ of sorts."

Queen Melani cocked her head to the side and looked at her son. Despite being bedridden for the last decade or so, her eyes had lost none of their sharpness; they missed very little.

"Escort?" she asked. "To whom?"

Ayden hesitated slightly. "I met her close to the Deturian border. I believe her to be Deturian, as well."

An appraising look came into the queen's eyes at Ayden's use of the feminine pronoun. The king, however, seemed to consider the nationality of their visitor to be more relevant.

"Deturian?" he mused curiously. "We have no quarrel with Deturus. Our citizens have always travelled freely across the border there. Has she a specific purpose for coming here?"

"I…don't know."

At this, both Naaman's eyebrows shot up. "Don't know?" he asked his son, surprised. "Hasn't she said? Haven't you _asked_?"

Ayden shook his head. "She's mute."

Queen Melani let out a tiny sigh of commiseration. Ayden was encouraged at this sign of compassion, so similar to his own feelings in regards to Svana's situation.

"She has been shown to the west corridor chamber." He said, addressing both of his parents, but keeping his eyes fixed on his mother's. "I believe her to have been travelling a great while, all alone."

Queen Melani seemed to understand exactly what Ayden was trying to say. Her eyes softened, and her expression became knowing.

Naaman huffed, considering. "I suppose I can send for a scroll and quill when she presents herself."

Ayden shrugged noncommittally. "Thus far, she has refused to write anything down. I'm not entirely sure she can."

The king's brow furrowed at this new complication. Ayden watched with a slightly anxious expression as his father began to pace the room a bit. He stopped and faced the prince one more. "Have you at least found out her name?" he asked.

Ayden coughed slightly, embarrassed that the question had arisen so soon, before he could remedy his ignorance.

"Well, _I've_ been calling her Svana." He told his parents.

"Svana?" His mother sounded curious. "That's a lovely name. But is it not her own?"

Again, Ayden shrugged helplessly. "I don't know." He said. "I don't think so. I named her that because when I met her, she was travelling with…swans. Five of them. I've asked for them to be shown to the pond in the gardens."

Ayden thought that if his parents' faces became any more surprised, their eyebrows would disappear forever into their hairlines. King Naaman opened his mouth several times as if to speak, but seemed to be at a loss as to what to say. Finally, he seemed to come to a decision.

"Well." He said at last. "I'll send for the quill all the same. If she can write enough to answer our questions, so much the better. If not…" he shrugged, and then exited the room, kissing his wife on the forehead before leaving.

Ayden made to leave as well, thinking to be present at the meeting between his father and Svana, so as to provide the girl with a familiar and friendly face. He also noticed with a slight hint of alarm that tiny lines had appeared between his mother's eyebrows—a sure indication that the ever-present pain with which she dealt was worsening once more. He kissed her forehead as his father had done, feeling the slight heat of fever and the saltiness of sweat on his lips as they made contact with her skin. Making a mental note to send the court physician to his mother's chamber, Ayden strode across the room to leave.

"Ayden."

At his mother's voice, Ayden turned to face her once more, his hand resting on the hard wood of the door. Her voice was slightly weaker than it had been before, but the tone was as firm as ever—almost conspiratorial.

"Try to learn the girl's name—her _real_ name. That's always a good first step."


	30. Fate Chapter 29

Chapter Twenty-Nine: Fate

 _Raia_

Raia was feeling a distinct sense of panic. As far as she could see, her current situation was now just as bad as it had ever been when she was Soran's prisoner. At least in Deturus, her sisters had still been able to transform back into humans and keep her company at night. Now, the other five princesses were swans at all times of the day and night _and_ on top of that, Raia feared that they were slowly losing their humanity completely. _She_ , on the other hand, still had two whole shawls to knit before she would be able to break her sisters' swan curse and set them free. And in the meantime, they were now trapped in Ithcar, the country that had been threatening war on Kyoria since before she was born.

 _Could things even get any worse?_

The only silver lining that Raia could find was that no one—not even Ayden—knew her true identity here. She thanked her lucky stars for the initial suspicion that had prevented her from giving Ayden her real name when he had asked. She was certain that the king of Ithcar would exploit the situation to his advantage—and Kyoria's disadvantage—were he to learn that he had even _one_ of the Kyorian princesses under his roof. She didn't like to think what he might do should he discover that he had _six_ of the seven of them within his control, though she was determined not to find out.

Still, Raia was having a hard time thinking what to do—not only to prevent her discovery, but also how to escape. She couldn't very well send a message to her father. In fact, posting _anything_ to Kyoria was out of the question; she was sure such an action would draw unwanted and antagonistic attention. Nor did she imagine herself capable of planning an escape from the castle—let alone finding her way out of Ithcar—on her own. Raia would no longer have her sisters' help in plotting, and if their last trip was any indication, she severely doubted her chances of navigating them all home through the forest. Thus far, the extent of her plans consisted solely of keeping her identity secret, as well as trying to cure her sisters as soon as she possibly could.

By the time one of the servants had appeared to escort Raia to her required audience with the king, Raia had already washed and changed into the strange garments provided her, and was knitting madly at the fourth nettle shawl. She stuffed all of the shawls back into her grubby pouch when she saw the door opening, and kept a firm grip on her pouch all the way to her audience with the king. No way would she feel comfortable leaving her precious knitting alone in the room. To her, it was as priceless as anything Raia had ever owned. The shawls meant the return of her sisters. She would not risk losing them—or having anyone else _touch_ them—for the world.

Raia's heart pounded in her chest as she was led down winding corridors to the king's reception room. Relief flooded her when she entered the room and saw that Ayden was also present. He stood to the right side of the king with his hands resting behind his back, looking at her with an expression of encouragement on his face. Her eyes fixed on him desperately, as though his mere presence anchored her, preventing her from being swept away by the force of her own panic. Feeling slightly calmer, Raia allowed her gaze to drift to the older man in the room.

From all the stories Raia had heard from her childhood of the evil Ithcarian rulers, she had imagined the king as tall and skeletally thin, with a twisted mustache and evil red eyes. Well, maybe not the red eyes. But as far as Raia was concerned, the twisted mustache was a definite requirement for a leader who was reputedly so corrupt.

But the king of Ithcar was not at all as Raia had pictured. Tall, he certainly was, and rather slim as well. His features were just as strong as his son's, though the king's face also sported a neatly trimmed goatee that was peppered with gray. His dark hair was of the same salt-and-pepper coloring, and his eyes were the exact shade of brown as Ayden's—a warm, cocoa-brown that Raia immediately found herself wanting to trust.

Raia curtseyed to the two men, her movement practiced and graceful.

When she glanced up, she noticed a slight confusion on both Ayden's and the king's faces, though she couldn't imagine what had already perplexed them about her actions.

The king quickly recovered from his confusion.

"You are welcome," he told her, his voice deep, and his tone rather abrupt. "I am Naaman, king of Ithcar. My son tells me you are Deturian?"

Raia nodded her head almost too quickly in confirmation. She was eager not to give him any reason to suspect her of being Kyorian, even if it meant lying outright. Before the king could ask her any more questions, Raia held her hand up to her throat and patted it as she had done with Ayden in order to convey her inability to speak.

King Naaman was already nodding his head. "Yes, yes." He said to her, "My son has mentioned _that_ as well." Raia bristled a bit as the king waved a hand in seeming dismissal. Then she realized that the motion was an indication for one of his servants to step forward. The man who approached held out a flat piece of slate, and Raia took it from his hands along with a small bit of white chalk. She glanced at the items in dismay, and then looked up at Ayden, whose expression was apologetic.

"It's just for a couple of questions, Svana." He told her, and Raia had to consciously stop herself from wincing at the sound of the name.

Ayden did not seem to notice her discomfort. "And afterwards, you can keep the slate, _and_ the chalk. They'll help us to communicate."

"You _can_ write?" King Naaman asked her, shifting as though he were a bit uncomfortable.

Raia hesitated, and then she nodded. While it may have been easier for her to avoid interrogation by feigning ignorance of writing, she genuinely doubted her ability to maintain such a charade for however long she was forced to reside at the Ithcarian palace.

The king was visibly relieved at her answer. "Very good, then." He said. "Now, can you tell us your name?"

Raia wrote on the slate with a shaking hand, and then held it up to show the two men. _Svana._ Ayden's brows furrowed in confusion.

"That is the name that I gave you." He said. "Do you mean that that is your real name? Or the name you choose to go by?"

Again, Raia wrote. _It is my name now._

The king sounded impatient. "But what is _your_ name? Your _real_ name. The name you had in the past."

 _I have no name. I have no past._

This answer seemed to perplex Ayden and King Naaman even more. They were both silent, as if at a loss for what to say to her next. Finally, the king spoke once more, his voice unsatisfied.

"Fine." He said. "Your past is unimportant. What we want to know—what we _need_ to know—is what your purpose is here in Ithcar. _Do you intend any harm_?"

The king's voice was stern and his gaze intense at this last question. His eyes seemed to bore into Raia's, as though seeking to read the truth straight from her mind.

Raia's answer was definite.

 _NO._

The king still did not seem entirely satisfied, but he nodded reluctantly all the same. "Very well. The truth of _that_ , we shall see, I am sure. You are free to go. I assume you already have a place to stay in the city?"

Raia was caught by surprise by the suddenness of her freedom. Her mouth dropped open in shock, and she found herself momentarily unable to answer the king's question.

She hesitated too long.

Ayden's familiar brown eyes bore into hers, and his voice was soft. "You don't have anywhere to go, do you, Svana?" It was more a statement of fact than a question. For a moment, Raia was tempted to lie and tell them that yes, yes she _did_ have friends with whom she could stay. But then what would she do? Sleep in the street? She had no money for shelter or food, and no idea how to find her way home to Kyoria.

And then there were her sisters to consider.

Raia shook her head, averting her gaze from Ayden's to hide the tears glistening in her eyes. She was stuck.

"Then you will stay here."

Ayden's voice was decisive, and Raia looked up at him again. She was torn between utter horror and utter relief at his offer. On the one hand, staying in the palace would give her a more or less secure place to live while she finished knitting the final two shawls. On the other hand, as a Kyorian in the Ithcarian court, Raia would be right in the middle of the lion's den, so to speak.

That is, _if_ they ever found out.

Raia glanced nervously at the king, expecting the man to oppose his son's suggestion. But he did not. Rather, King Naaman seemed completely unsurprised at his son's words, as though he had already been expecting Ayden to make the offer. Raia bit her lip and nodded tentatively. She would stay.


	31. Fate Chapter 30

Chapter Thirty: Fate

 _Ayden_

Ayden's face broke into a smile at Svana's acceptance of their hospitality. Despite her not having anywhere else to go, he had still half expected her to refuse their offer—and that was the very last thing that he wanted. He cleared his throat.

"As that is now settled…" he said, shooting a half-questioning glance at his father to make sure that the king had no more questions that he wanted to ask of their new guest. King Naaman shook his head and gestured to several of his advisors to approach. Ayden and Svana were forgotten for the moment.

Ayden stepped closer to the silent girl, speaking for her ears alone. "I _am_ sorry about that whole… _charade_." He told her. "But it is necessary. It is Ithcarian custom, so it is necessary. For now, at least."

Svana shrugged, then looked at him with a hopeful expression. She made a small gesture with her hands that resembled wings, and Ayden understood immediately. She was asking after her swans. He possibly should have been surprised, but he wasn't. Not in the slightest.

"They'll be in the gardens. I'll bring you to them now." Ayden said, taking Svana's arm and leading her out of the receiving room.

Once out of the stodgy room, Ayden allowed his voice to gain the comfortable playfulness that he had adopted with her over the last several days. "I'm sure they'll be delighted to see _you_ at least, if not me. Though I think they are starting to like me a bit." He shrugged, his face impish. "Or tolerate me. Same thing, right?"

For a moment, Ayden thought that Svana might actually burst out laughing at his weak joke. She clapped one hand over her mouth as if she were trying to stifle any sound that might emerge, and her eyes were brimming with mirth. Ayden felt rather pleased, though also a bit mystified as to why she would need to cover her mouth. If Svana was unable to speak, shouldn't that mean that she couldn't laugh either—at least, not audibly? Ayden shrugged off the question as unimportant at the moment, though it bore thinking about for the future. He simply did not know enough about her condition to be positive about what she could and couldn't do.

Svana positively lit up when they stepped into the palace gardens, which were a veritable work of art—and a source of deep pride to Ayden's entire family. For centuries, Ithcarian rulers had been cultivating different species of flora from around the world; the collection of plants in the royal gardens was unmatched by any in the surrounding kingdoms. Yet despite the beauty around him, Ayden found it hard to tear his eyes away from Svana's face. He found it more enjoyable to witness _her_ enjoyment in seeing the gardens for the first time with entirely new eyes. She seemed to recognize the incredible significance of their extensive collection, and her awe was boundless. Her smoky gray eyes shone in wonder, and an excited flush lent an extra color to her cheeks.

Ayden found the sight most distracting—far more distracting than the plants could ever be.

But if Svana seemed in awe of the palace gardens, she was positively overcome at the sight of her pet swans. The moment that the pond came into view, Ayden saw her eyes flood with tears, and she rushed forward towards the white figures of her beloved birds. The thin material of her skirts swished around her ankles as she all but ran the last thirty meters to the water's edge. Ayden jogged to catch up with her and was glad that he had, simply to witness the sight of their reunion. Svana's swans immediately rushed to greet her the moment they noticed her approaching the pond, and Ayden was touched—and a little surprised—at the seeming intensity of the emotions that the birds displayed. Not for the first time, he recognized something almost _human_ in their reactions.

Svana's joy at their reunion was palpable, though Ayden did not think that they had been separated from the birds for longer than an hour at the most. Still, tears streamed down the mute girl's cheeks, and she touched the birds' heads and wings as though she were afraid they might disappear at any moment from under her fingers.

Again, Ayden found it hard to tear his eyes away from the sheer happiness shining out of Svana's face. Clearly, there was something about her swans that pierced through all of the protective barriers that Svana had erected. He was pleased to be present to witness this initial crumbling of the barriers around her, and he determined to see her open up even more—to him, as well as her swans.

Ayden stepped closer towards the pond, approaching the strange grouping slowly and cautiously. The last thing he wanted at this point was yet another swan bite to the kneecaps. Not only were both of his legs still quite sore enough from previous bites, but Ayden also wanted to avoid marring the poignant reunion between Svana and her birds.

Drawing level with Svana, he spoke softly. "See?" he told her, crouching down beside her. "I told you they would be glad to see you."

Svana looked at him, her heart in her eyes. Then she glanced down, and Ayden noticed for the first time that she still held the slate and chalk that his father had provided for her in the receiving room. He felt of thrill of excitement. At last, they might actually be able to communicate. Svana scrawled on the slate, and then held it up so that Ayden could read the words she had written there.

 _Thank you Ayden._

Ayden met her eyes once more and inclined his head. "You're welcome." He said simply.

Svana turned back to caress her swans once more, and Ayden glanced at the birds as well. He recognized the swan sitting nearest him as the one that had listened so intently when he had played the rhaita the last couple of nights. She was the smallest bird of the bunch, and had a peculiar way of cocking her head so that she appeared perpetually curious. This was also the same swan, Ayden was sure, that had taken to riding on Undertow's rump when they had still been walking the path.

On a whim, Ayden reached out a hand and placed it gently on the smallest bird's back, stroking the soft feathers in the same manner that Svana often did. Svana herself froze in shock at the sight, and the other birds seemed almost as surprised as she was. Ayden felt the swan shiver under his palm, and he made ready to jerk his hand away should the bird seem inclined to attack him with her beak. But she didn't.

Instead, the swan nestled closer to Ayden. She bumped at him gently with her head, as though requesting that he kindly continue his ministrations. Ayden complied, feeling a distinct sense of awe and triumph. It was a small victory, this sign of acceptance.

But it was a victory all the same.


	32. Fate Chapter 31

Chapter Thirty-One: Fate

 _Raia_

Raia spent the rest of the afternoon in the Ithcarian palace gardens with both Ayden and her sisters as company. Following the initial joy of their reunion, the swan princesses returned to the pond, and Raia retreated to sit on a nearby bench overlooking the water. There, she silently watched her sisters swimming and diving happily for a couple minutes, before taking out her knitting. Ayden took the spot beside her on the bench, and the two sat in a comfortable silence that was now becoming familiar after the days spent walking together on the road.

Eventually, however, Raia found her progress in knitting impeded by the introduction of conversation between Ayden and herself—for the first time, a _two_ -sided conversation. Her new chalk and slate made a difference in finally providing each of them with a way to ask—and answer—questions that they were burning to ask the other, though both steered clear of any kind of queries that might resemble an interrogation. Rather, their conversation began by identifying the many different plant species that were found in the Ithcarian gardens—a topic that always held a distinct interest for Raia. From there, their subjects jumped to music and art, and eventually to recounting amusing anecdotes from their respective childhoods; Raia was careful not to reveal anything _too_ specific when writing down stories from her own youth. And while she felt a distinct guilt at the impetus their conversation presented to her knitting, she could not regret the conversation itself. In truth, Raia reveled in the opportunity to communicate once more with another person—even if she _was_ limited to writing rather than speaking.

Ayden did not ask her for her real name again—though Raia was sure that he wished to—and she was glad of this. She felt that it might just have been harder to refuse Ayden's request than it had been to sidestep the king's demand. Despite his title and his status, King Naaman was still a complete stranger to her—not to mention a possible enemy. Ayden was neither.

The sun had just begun to set when their tête-à-tête was interrupted by a messenger sent to find them. Raia recognized the man as the same person who had handed her the slate and chalk from the king. Ayden also seemed to know the man well. He jumped to his feet at the sight of the servant, and greeted him by name.

"Jhonatan!" he said, and Raia was alarmed to hear a hint of trepidation in his voice. "Is something wrong?"

Jhonatan bowed to the Ithcarian prince. "Not at all, Your Highness." He said, shaking his head in response to Ayden's question. "I have merely been sent by your mother to request your presence—and that of your guest's—in the queen's chambers before dinner. She wishes to welcome the new arrival personally to the palace." Here, Jhonatan acknowledged Raia's presence with a bow, a slight hint of curiosity in his gaze.

Raia turned startled eyes on Ayden. When he had spoken of his mother before, she had gotten the impression from the sadness in his voice that Ayden's mother had died in his childhood, as hers had. Evidently, this was not the case.

Ayden hesitated in his response. "Mother seemed quite tired when I left her before…" His statement was phrased more like a question. Hearing the worry evident in his voice, Raia felt a stab of comprehension, confirmed almost immediately by Jhonatan's response.

Jhonatan straightened his shoulders. "She has instructed me to inform you that the physician has already come and gone, and that she is expecting the two of you momentarily."

Raia saw Ayden's eyes narrow. "That doesn't answer my question." He said, his tone a bit suspicious.

"As you say." Jhonatan bowed once more. "But the queen has also asked me to tell you that if you and your guest do not come to _her_ , then _she_ will come to _you_."

"Fine." Ayden sounded resigned, though Raia detected a hint of amusement in his voice as well. "Tell Mother she wins. We will come straightaway."

He glanced apologetically at Raia as Jhonatan took his leave to deliver the message back to the queen. Raia felt a laugh bubble in her chest, and she put her hand over her mouth to prevent the sound from bursting out. She found herself almost looking forward to meeting the Ithcarian queen. On top of her own curiosity at meeting Ayden's mother, Raia also suspected from the sound of _this_ conversation that the woman in question was surely a force to be reckoned with.

Seeing the humor in her eyes, Ayden shook his head. "You can laugh." He warned her, his voice playful once more. "But I assure you, you don't know who you're dealing with. Mother always seems to be two steps ahead. She's excellent at chess, I can tell you that."

Raia glanced back over her shoulder once more at the pond, where her sisters swam obliviously. She felt a sting of sadness. _Cliodne_ was the chess-master of the sisters, though she would certainly not be up to defeating anyone at the game in her current state.

Ayden led the way down the garden paths back towards the palace. Raia followed, tucking her knitting back into her pouch, but keeping the new slate and chalk ready in her hands. She had a feeling she was going to be subject to yet another interrogation, this time by the mother, rather than the father.

The door to the queen's chamber was immense, made of a polished dark wood that echoed dully when Ayden knocked on it. Raia felt a tad nervous as she entered behind him through the doorway. Her nerves dissipated immediately, however, upon seeing the figure of the Ithcarian queen sitting upright in her bed. Just as King Naaman had not been as Raia had pictured for an Ithcarian ruler, so the queen did not exactly fulfill Raia's expectations, either. She was not an altogether imposing figure sitting in her bed, but the expression in her eyes negated any seeming impression of frailty. The woman was dark—dark-haired, dark-skinned, and dark-eyed. Her features were as delicate as her son's were strong. She had large eyes and finely shaped brows, which were furrowed slightly in an expression that Raia suspected indicated that the queen was in a great deal of pain. Despite this, the woman's full lips were already pulled upwards in a welcoming smile that was entirely genuine.

Raia liked her instantly.

"Come closer child, so I can see you!" the queen said, beckoning with her hand for Raia to approach the bed. Ayden nudged her forward from behind, but Raia needed no such prompting. She felt no hesitation whatsoever in approaching the bedridden queen. She pulled up one of the hard-backed chairs to the side of the bed and sat down gracefully, sensing the queen's gaze all the while.

Ayden kissed his mother on the forehead in greeting before likewise pulling up a chair on the opposite side of the bed from where Raia sat. Still, the queen did not look away from Raia. Raia felt as though the older woman was appraising her from head to toe, and she struggled to keep her face calm and devoid of any of the anxiousness that she might be feeling.

Finally, the queen smiled, seemingly satisfied with what she had seen in Raia's eyes and expression.

"Oh, you're a good one, I can tell." She said, patting Raia's hand lightly with her own. Raia smiled at the words, gratified by the compliment.

"I am Melani, queen of Ithcar. And I believe you are already acquainted with my son." The queen gestured towards Ayden, and Raia spared him a quick glance before turning her attention once more to his mother.

The queen gestured at the slate and chalk in Raia's hands. "I _am_ glad that Naaman found you a way to communicate. It must be difficult enough coming to a new place, without being able to talk about it!"

Raia nodded mutely, fiddling with the chalk. The queen continued, her voice gentle. "Now, I won't keep you long, as I'm sure that you must be hungry after your journey. I'm not able to join you, of course." She gestured to her bed with a wry expression on her face. "But I wanted to be sure to meet my son's new… _friend_ …sooner rather than later."

Her gaze flashed towards Ayden for a moment, and Raia glanced his way as well. She was a mite surprised to see that his face was slightly red as though from embarrassment. Raia felt her own face heat in response. Then the queen was addressing her again, and she met the older woman's gaze once more.

"Now Ayden has told me that he calls you by the name Svana, because of the lovely birds that accompany you. But I would like to ask _you_ , my dear, by what name you prefer I call you?"

Raia smiled slightly. She had been expecting the question. She bent her head, and scrawled her response onto the slate.

 _Svana is fine._

Queen Melani read the words, and then glanced once more at her son. Ayden shrugged his shoulders, and Raia could have sworn that the queen's expression turned almost stern, as though Ayden had somehow disappointed her in some way. But the older woman's smile was as warm as ever when she turned back to Raia.

"Then Svana it shall be." Queen Melani said, the white of her teeth contrasting sharply against the dark brown of her skin. Her smile was lovely, and the warmth in her expression and tone brought to mind memories of Raia's own mother, who had died so long ago.

Then a spasm of pain flashed across the queen's face, and she gasped in response. Ayden shot to his feet and leaned over his mother, his expression worried. Raia froze, uncertain what to do. But Queen Melani recovered quickly from her pain, as though she were accustomed to such feelings. She waved away her son's attempts to help her.

"It's nothing, Ayden." She scolded, her voice almost impatient. "The kitchen is just a bit late with my tonic, that's all."

The worried look in Ayden's eyes did not dissipate, and despite having only just met the queen herself, Raia shared his anxiety. The two remained by the queen's bedside until her tonic arrived. As Queen Melani drank deeply from the goblet handed her by the servant, Raia caught the distinctive smell of valerian root as one of the ingredients used in the liquid. Her fears were confirmed.

Raia and Ayden took their leave once the queen's eyes began drooping from the effects of the tonic. Raia did not notice the stares of passing servants as she followed Ayden through the castle towards the dining room where—she assumed—they would be supping that evening. Though her feet moved automatically beneath her, her mind remained centered on the room that they had just left, as well as its occupant. She did not know the details of the queen's ailment, but it was more than evident that the older woman experienced moments of intense pain. The mere use of valerian root in her nightly tonic proved that. Sympathy welled up in her chest, and she felt an overwhelming desire to help the situation as best she could.

Raia pursed her lips thoughtfully. 'I wonder if they've tried butterbur root instead.' She made a mental to search the gardens on the morrow for the pale pink blooms. Ithcarian or not, if Raia could help the queen, then she would.


	33. Fate Chapter 32

Chapter Thirty-Two: Fate

 _Ayden_

As Ayden had suspected, Svana's arrival at the palace and continued presence as his personal guest had unleashed no end of rumors and conjectures among the palace staff—not to mention the surrounding villagers. In addition to being a stranger invited to stay in the royal palace, rumors flew all around the kingdom of the foreign girl's odd ways—her inability to speak, her affinity with swans, and her persistence in knitting the days away.

From what Ayden could tell, the majority of these rumors revolved around the existence of a romantic attachment between himself and Svana, though the stories varied in regards to the exact nature of their relationship. Several of these rumors he had had the opportunity to quash himself when they were raised in his presence. Others, however, he only knew about from hearsay. There were some, Ayden knew, who said that Svana was a mere forest girl with whom he'd fallen in love after she had saved him from a rampaging boar. This rumor was perhaps the most innocuous version of the story—and not _too_ far away from the truth. It was the most popular version told among the palace staff, many of whom had met Svana, and rather liked the girl.

The other variations, however, were not nearly so benign.

The worst version that had reached Ayden's ears thus far asserted that Svana was a forest witch who had ensnared the Ithcarian prince— _him_ —and enchanted him into falling in love with her. Ayden had yet to attempt refuting this strange story in person. Truth be told, he felt at a loss as to what he would say, anyhow. Despite its implausibility—or rather, _because_ of it—this rumor was the most difficult to refute. How did one argue that a person was _not_ a witch if there was no legitimate way to _prove_ that Svana wasn't a witch?

Particularly when her actions were so strange.

Several servants had personally witnessed Svana picking nettles from the palace gardens only a couple days prior. The same day, she also requested the use of a spinning wheel in her bedchamber. Svana's hands were red and swollen when she emerged the following morning, and the supply of yarn with which she knitted her shawls had mysteriously doubled. In the following days, new gossip spread quickly that the foreigner knit with nettles, which seemed to all but confirm some of the suspicions that Svana was a foreign witch.

But in spite of the wild tales floating around, Ayden had yet to regret inviting the girl to stay. In fact, the majority of his days were spent sitting beside her on the same bench, overlooking the swan pond in the garden. They sometimes spent hours conversing, he with his voice and she with her slate and chalk. On other occasions, they would simply sit in a comfortable silence, with the only sounds being that of her knitting needles clinking together. Several times, Ayden would play a tune on his rhaita, filling the gardens with the haunting sound of the instrument. At least one of Svana's swans—the smallest one—would invariably approach and listen to Ayden play; once or twice, he had managed to attract the entire flock by the time he had finished his song. Ayden honestly did not know which of all of these pastimes he enjoyed the most. No matter how they spent their time, he found Svana's company charming, and her presence calming.

The tenth day following their arrival, Ayden felt in a rather melancholy mood as he sought out Svana in her usual place in the gardens. His mother had had another of her spasms the previous night, and her nightly tonic was proving to be less and less effective in combatting her pain. Still, his spirits rose considerably on seeing Svana sitting on her bench as always, her hands busy with their knitting. The girl glanced up at his approach, and Ayden's heart lightened at the happiness that filled her face at the sight of him.

Svana bolted from her place on her place on the bench to meet Ayden halfway. She pulled at his hand eagerly and he settled down next to her, slightly surprised by her excitement. She rummaged in her pouch frantically, and Ayden got the distinct impression that she wanted to show him something important. At last, she pulled a small bottle from her pouch and triumphantly placed it into his hands. Ayden looked down at the clear glass, which housed a rosy-colored liquid. He looked up at her curiously.

"What's this?"

Svana was already writing on her slate. She held it up so that Ayden could read the explanation.

 _Butterbur root. For the queen._

Ayden looked between Svana and the small bottle in slight confusion. For his mother? What could Svana want to give the queen?

"What does it do?"

Again, Svana showed him her slate. _For her pain. Better than valerian root._

Hope filled Ayden's chest. He rubbed the clear glass with his thumb, but then exclaimed in surprise when Svana snatched the bottle from his grasp. He watched incredulously as she removed the cork, pouring a small drop of the pale pink liquid onto one finger and then tasting it. She replaced the cork and then handed the bottle back to him.

 _Now you can say you saw me drink some,_ she wrote. _And that I'm not trying to poison the queen._

Ayden was about to protest the idea that anyone would think her capable of poisoning his mother but hesitated, thinking of the nature of some of the rumors that he had heard. Some Ithcarian citizens were so superstitious; he wouldn't put it past them to accuse _anyone_ of witchcraft, let alone someone who they already suspected of the craft. Ayden was at a loss as to what to say, and then he noticed the amused twinkle in Svana's eyes. She was joking, he realized with relief. He knew in that moment that at least _some_ of the stories had reached her ears, and that she found them laughable—at least those branding her as a witch.

Ayden couldn't help wondering how she felt about the rest of the rumors.

He gripped the bottle tightly in his hand. If this tonic worked as well as Svana seemed to think that it would, it would free his mother from no end of pain. He looked into Svana's eyes.

"Thank you." He told her gratefully, using his free hand to grip her own. Svana smiled and nodded at him once, then her gaze dropped to their clasped hands. Ayden's fingers suddenly felt very hot, as though they had caught fire just from mere contact with her skin. Quickly, he let go of her hand.

Svana bent her head over her knitting once more, and Ayden had the suspicion that she was trying to avoid his gaze. He shifted uncertainly on the bench. He really _should_ deliver the tonic to his mother immediately. Yet, he reasoned, she would have no need of it until the early evening. Surely telling both of his parents _now_ about this possible new pain relief would prove more torture than kindness, as there was still so many hours to wait until they would even have the chance to test its effectiveness. Surely, Ayden told himself, it would not hurt to linger in the gardens just a few moments more.

Thus decided, he turned his gaze on Svana's profile. Her movements were practiced, but Ayden noticed that her fingers were perhaps a little clumsier in their actions than they had been a few days prior. His brow furrowed, he studied her hands. They _did_ look a little swollen, he realized in some surprise. The story about Svana's nettles ran across his mind, and for the first time, Ayden wondered if that aspect of the story was, in fact, true.

His eyes drifted to the shawl that she was knitting. The yarn that she used was certainly not the prettiest color; it had a light green tint to it that Ayden had never seen before. He could also see from a glance that the yarn had been inexpertly spun. Small fibers stuck out at odd angles, as if either the spinner had been inexperienced, or her material of an unusual origin—or possibly both. The yarn looked far from soft, though Ayden did not reach out and touch the thread to test his theory. The swans and Svana were all extremely particular in regards to those who were allowed to handle the yarn, needles and even the finished shawls. Namely, only Svana herself.

Ayden leaned forward and placed his elbows on his knees, so as to watch Svana's hands more closely at their work.

"You know, I've never actually asked." He said, keeping his voice casual. "But what are you making?"

Svana did not look up, though Ayden noticed that her hands had paused in their motions. Her brows were furrowed, and she looked as though she were considering something. Suddenly, she looked up and directly into his face, her eyes searching. Ayden had the distinct impression that she was trying to decide whether or not he was trustworthy.

He held her gaze, and waited.

At last, she nodded and began to write on her slate once more. Ayden felt a twinge of excitement. Svana was going to tell him. She trusted him enough to tell him the mysterious secret of her knitting, for mysterious it certainly was. The temptation was strong to read over her shoulder as she wrote, but Ayden refrained. He waited for her to finish and hold up the message as had become their custom.

 _They're for the swans, to turn them human._

Ayden read and reread the words several different times over in an attempt to interpret their meaning. At last, however, he understood. He felt let down. Maybe she didn't trust him enough after all.

Svana smiled at him tentatively, and he responded with a full grin of his own that was slightly forced.

"There's no need to feed the rumor mongers even more." He told her with a small laugh. "I assure you, they're capable of making up stories about anything. They don't need any help coming up with the impossible."

Svana's smile dimmed slightly, and she lowered her head to stare at her knitting. Ayden immediately felt a twinge of guilt. Yes, he was disappointed that she didn't yet trust him enough to reveal the truth to him, but all the same, he truly hadn't meant to ruin her fun.

"But," he said in a desperate attempt to save the situation. "If you want to tell me the story all the same—"

Svana shook her head. Ayden felt disheartened. Clearly, he had lost his chance. He somehow sensed that he had really stepped in it this time, and he had no idea how to go about making amends.

"Well, then." He said a mite awkwardly. "You don't have to worry. I'll keep your…your secret. Unless you don't want me to?"

Again, Svana shook her head, her expression adamant in her refusal.

The two sat silently for a few moments, and for the first time, a hint of awkwardness marred the once comfortable silence between them. Ayden was mentally kicking himself. Their afternoon had started off so well, with Svana so eager to pass along the tonic for his mother.

The tonic.

Ayden stood, the small clear bottle clutched in his fist. "Thank you again for the tonic." He said to the top of Svana's head. "I should probably bring this to Mother. It won't do her any good tonight if she hasn't drunk it."

He tried to insert a hint of his standard joviality into his words, but Svana still did not look up at him. She simply nodded, keeping her face hidden, and her needles moving.

Ayden left her then, still sitting on the bench in the palace gardens. Just before re-entering the palace, he glanced back behind him towards Svana's bench and saw that she had risen to her feet, her knitting forgotten for the moment. Her five swans wandered all around her, poking their beaks into the reeds around the pond to look for food. Yet Svana's slim figure stood still as a statue. Her face was turned in his direction, and even from this distance, Ayden could see her disappointment and sadness as clear as day.


	34. Fate Chapter 33

Chapter Thirty-Three: Fate

 _Raia_

The shawls were almost finished. Raia had completed the fourth shawl several days ago, and was now over halfway finished with the fifth and final garment for her sisters. She progressed much quicker in her work now, as she was interrupted far less often than she had been before. Ayden had cut back on his visits to the garden since the day Raia had given him the butterbur root tonic for his mother—the same day in which Raia had tried to confide in him about her sisters and their curse.

The same day that he hadn't believed her.

It had been a blow, to be sure. She had dared to dream that sharing her tale with Ayden would have lessened her burden a little. By telling Ayden, Raia had hoped to gain an ally who might help with the last leg of her task. But apart from her initial hurt at his reaction, she could not really blame Ayden for his disbelief of her story. Raia understood that even what little she had told him couldn't help but seem impossible to someone who hadn't actually experienced the events firsthand. She had experienced them herself, and yet she sometimes still found herself doubting the validity of her own memory, particularly in her dreams.

Then she would wake, and she would remember.

But soon, Raia would have proof that the story that she had told Ayden had been true. One more day spent knitting—two at the most—and the nettle shawls would finally be ready; her sisters would regain their human forms once more. Of course, Raia knew that she—that _all_ of them—would have a great deal of explaining to do following the transformation. Yet she was not overly worried about this. Raia had great faith in Cliodne's diplomatic silver tongue. She was sure that her elder sister would be able to explain away the strangeness of their entire situation. In fact, Raia wouldn't put it past her to negotiate for peace with Ithcar at the same time. And if _that_ failed, Petra and Thaleia would simply concoct one of their foolproof escape plans to get all six of the princesses safely home to Kyoria.

But first, Raia had to finish the last shawl.

It was late afternoon when Raia saw Ayden walking towards her from the palace. She raised one hand in greeting. Despite the awkwardness that had lingered between them over the last several days, she still felt happy at the sight of him coming to seek her out. There was another, slightly shorter figure walking behind him. Though the other's man face was in shadow, Raia assumed that it was Jhonatan, come to bring her another invitation from the queen. Queen Melani's health had improved as a result of switching to Raia's butterbur root tonic, and she had since expressed her gratitude on several occasions with requests that Raia join her for afternoon tea. Raia enjoyed the short visits in spite of the time they took away from her knitting. The queen had no end of fascinating and amusing stories to tell, many of them about Ayden as a boy. Raia was becoming fonder of the older woman with every passing day, and eagerly looked forward to their little chats.

Raia placed her knitting down on the bench beside her as the two men drew closer. She smiled warmly at Ayden, and was slightly surprised when he did not return her silent welcome. Then the second man stepped out from behind the Ithcarian prince, and Raia's smile transformed into a look of utter horror.

Soran.

His hair was just as blond as ever, presenting a stark contrast to Ayden's dark locks. And that infernal cocky smile still curled his lips. Raia stared in stunned incredulity at the familiar hateful figure. She could have sworn she saw a triumphant twinkle in his eye as he looked at her.

 _How had he found her_?

"I'm glad that I've found you, my dear." Soran said, his voice smooth. Raia's mouth gaped open, and she felt at a complete loss for words. Even if she _had_ been able to speak in that moment, she doubted her ability to articulate any words whatsoever. Ayden's voice inserted itself into the heavy silence that followed Soran's greeting.

"Svana," he said, his voice low. "Prince Soran claims that you are, in fact, one of the princesses of Kyoria. He says that your name—your _real_ name—is Raia. Is this true?"

Raia had the horrible feeling that at any moment, the situation would veer completely out of her control, if it hadn't already. Nevertheless, she could no longer lie to Ayden about her identity. She looked him straight in the eyes and nodded once. Yes. She was Raia, princess of Kyoria.

The shock and hurt that filled Ayden's eyes proved almost too much for Raia to bear. Not for the first time since they'd met, she longed for the voice that she could not use, so that she could explain everything to him.

"So it's true." He whispered, and there was a hint of betrayal in his voice. "You lied to me. You're Kyorian."

Again, Raia nodded, but Ayden seemed not to even see her as he continued, his voice slowly rising.

"You implied that you were Deturian. You _told_ me you were Deturian! And now you're engaged to _him_?"

At that, Raia's mouth dropped open again, and she only just barely choked back a gasp.

"We were to be married _months_ ago." Soran said smoothly. "But my _fiancée_ got cold feet before the big day." He caught Raia's gaze, a wicked gleam in his own eyes. "I'm so glad you're safe, my dear."

Raia violently shook her head, looking at Ayden in desperation, but she had no voice with which to refute Soran's lies. A hurt expression covering his face, Ayden refused to meet Raia's eyes. Her heart sank and she felt panic claw at the inside of her chest. After everything, after all they had been through together, he believed Soran.

She supposed that Soran's version was less impossible for Ayden to swallow than her tale of enchanted swans.

Words, angry and forceful, rose up into her throat and pushed to be released, but Raia held them back. She _could_ not, she _would_ not let all of her hard work—and her sisters' months-long sacrifice—go to waste. Not when she was so close to breaking their curse once and for all.

Soran exuded the triumph of his victory. "Come, my dear." He ordered Raia. She felt a frisson of fear. Though he attempted to make his voice sound gentle, Raia could hear a hint of steel in his words. "Gather your swans and we shall be on our way straightaway."

"No."

Both Soran and Raia started at the sudden interjection from Ayden. Raia looked at him hopefully and this time, he met her gaze for a few moments before fixing his eyes on Soran.

"No." He repeated, his voice stern. "You have only just arrived, Your Highness, and you have yet to present yourself to the king, as is the Ithcarian tradition."

For a moment, Raia was sure that Soran was going to refuse the request out of hand, but he seemed to think better of it. After all, flouting the traditions of the country that they were currently in was no small matter.

"Very well." He said with a smile, though an audible tightness in his voice evidenced his displeasure at the delay. "I shall pay my compliments to the king your father immediately, while my beloved packs."

Raia's skin crawled at Soran's use of the phrase 'my beloved'. She shivered in disgust. Ayden glanced at her again, and she wondered whether he had noticed her reaction. She caught his gaze and attempted to plead with him using only her eyes.

 _Please. Think of something._

Ayden shook his head. For one brief but disappointing moment, Raia thought that he was responding to her unspoken request for help. When Ayden spoke, however, she realized that he was still addressing Soran.

"I'm sorry, Your Highness," he said, not sounding very sorry at all. "But the king my father is meeting with several of his advisors today, and has asked not to be disturbed. But you may present yourself to him at supper shortly, and start your journey tomorrow. I will ask for rooms to be prepared for you and your men." Ayden's tone left absolutely no room for argument, though Raia knew that Soran longed to do just that. She felt a moment's relief.

One night. Ayden had bought her one night, and she could have kissed him for it. She made mental calculations, glancing surreptitiously at her knitting out of the corner of her eye. One night just _might_ be enough for her to finish the final shawl needed to break her sisters' curse. And when her sisters were human once more, Raia would no longer be bound by silence. She could spill all, and beg Ayden for his help.

Soran bowed in acquiescence to Ayden's suggestion, a slightly sour expression marring his face. When he spoke, Raia was alarmed to see that his eyes were fixed intently on her.

"As you wish." He said, his gaze never leaving Raia. "As long as I am granted a private audience with my fiancée before the dinner hour."

Longing to protest, Raia shot another horrified glance at Ayden. She silently willed him to refuse on her behalf, to invent some reason— _any_ reason—why such a meeting might be considered improper. But he did not, or could not. Though his jaw tightened as indication of his displeasure at the request, Ayden made no objection. He bowed and strode quickly down the path, looking for all the world as though he could not get away fast enough.

Alone in the gardens with Soran, Raia raised her chin and looked the sorcerer straight in the eye. Though he looked somewhat surprised at her newfound backbone, his face still radiated a cockiness that told Raia that Soran was sure that he had her— _and_ her sisters—cornered once more. She gritted her teeth, thinking of the shawls stuffed in the pouch on the bench behind her.

'Let him think that.' Raia told herself. 'Don't let him see the knitting. He might guess.'

Soran clasped his hands behind his back and regarded her with his head cocked curiously. His voice was condescending when he spoke. "Did you think you could escape me, little bird?" he asked her. "When whispers of you are flying all around?"

Raia mentally cursed all of the rumors that her presence had ignited. If only the Ithcarians weren't such gossips!

Soran's gaze shifted to the five swans swimming in the pond behind Raia. His eyes sharpened. "I'm pleased to see that no harm has come to your other sisters, either. I suppose you've noticed long ago the effect leaving my lake has had, haven't you?" He looked into her eyes, and his mouth curled almost maliciously. "They aren't really your sisters anymore now, are they?"

Raia's jaw clenched, and she glared at the man. Soran laughed, obviously amused by her newfound heat.

"Fear not, little bird." He said. "Once they are on the lake again, the spell will revert once more, with no side effects." Soran paused and pretended to consider the issue a moment. "Well, not _many_ , at least."

His detestable laughed spilled over the gardens again, and it was only the sudden appearance of Jhonatan that prevented Raia from launching herself at the sorcerer with nails bared. Jhonatan immediately seemed to notice that something was off about the interaction between Raia and Soran. There was a silent question in his eyes as he addressed the two of them.

"Dinner is prepared, Your Highness, milady," he said, bowing. "And the king and prince await your presence."

Raia felt Soran grip her arm tightly, and she struggled a bit in his grasp. Soran's voice was smooth as he responded. "Excellent! We shall follow you to the dining room, then."

Fingers digging into her arm almost painfully, Soran propelled Raia forward. She felt a bit panicked when she realized that the nettle shawls were still in the pouch lying on the bench behind her and for a moment, she considered fighting Soran's grasp so that she could gather her supplies. But no. Raia couldn't take the chance of Soran recognizing the significance of the nettle shawls if he were to see them. She would collect the knitting when Soran retired to his room. She only had one more night in the Ithcarian castle, one more night before she and her sisters became Soran's prisoners again. One more night to finish the task, and to break the spell.

Yet Soran seemed determined not to let Raia escape from his clutches again. He did not let her out of his sight, insisting on escorting his 'fiancée' to her chamber immediately following dinner with the king and Prince Ayden. Raia was given no opportunity to break away and collect the supplies that she needed from the garden.

There was a knowing smile on Soran's face as they stopped outside the door to her bedchamber.

"If you need anything at all," he told her, "Just knock on your door from the inside, and your guard will be happy to help you."

Raia's heart clenched, and then sank. She should have known that Soran would insist on posting a guard at her door.

Soran opened the bedchamber door wide to admit her, and Raia was forced to walk inside. Her mind raced, trying in vain to come up with an alternate plan to reclaim her knitting before she was shut inside her room for the night. She came up blank.

Soran paused before closing the door. Smiling impishly, he said, "Sleep well, my dear."

The door closed behind him, and Raia heard the distinctive sound of a lock behind turned. She was trapped inside her room without her needles, without her yarn, without anything.

Collapsing into a chair, Raia buried her face in her hands, weeping tears of disappointment and despair.

Soran had won.


	35. Fate Chapter 34

Chapter Thirty-Four: Fate

 _Ayden_

Dinner had been absolute torture for Ayden. The tension around the dinner table had been so thick that he felt he could have cut it with a knife—even with his butter knife. His father had been most suspicious to find out that one of the Kyorian princesses had been living under his roof for the last several weeks. He spent the entire meal shooting glances across the table at Svana— _Raia,_ Ayden reminded himself—through narrowed eyes. This was likely a contributing factor to why Raia herself looked tense as well, though Ayden suspected that the main reason for her unease was the man who had sat next to her.

Soran, prince of Deturus—or was he the king? Whatever his title may be, he claimed to be Raia's fiancé.

Yet Ayden suspected that there might be more to the story. There _had_ to be more to the story. All throughout dinner, Ayden had seen that Raia sat as far away from the Deturian royal as she possibly could, leaning her body so far in the opposite direction that she was nearly falling off of her seat. And when Soran insisted on escorting her to her room, she looked positively horrified. She had glanced towards Ayden and the king with a pleading expression in her eyes. Yet there had really been nothing that he or his father could have done. After all, from everything that Soran had said, _Raia_ was the one who had been in the wrong, fleeing her wedding and taking shelter in Ithcar under false pretense. In such a delicate situation, their hands were tied. They could do nothing to intervene between the engaged couple without risking antagonizing their newest royal guest—and possibly gaining a powerful enemy in Deturus.

Still, Ayden could not get Raia's face out of his head. She had looked so worried, so frightened. The image of her eyes haunted him even now.

Ayden stood abruptly, knocking the chair over in his haste. He didn't pause even a moment to right the piece of furniture before he had stridden out of the library and down the hall towards the guest rooms.

A guard was standing outside the door to Raia's room. Ayden wished that he could say that he was surprised at the sight, but he had already guessed that Soran would likely take some kind of precaution to ensure that Raia did not flee again. From what little he'd seen of the man, Ayden knew that Soran wanted the Kyorian princess badly. And while Ayden could appreciate the girl's allure perhaps far more than anyone else, he certainly would never have dreamed of stooping so low as to bar her—or anyone—in their room. Not to mention forcing her into a marriage that she clearly did not want.

As Ayden had expected, the guard moved to prevent him entering Raia's room. "No one enters. King Soran's orders." The man said, and the curtness of his voice told Ayden that the guard had no idea who he was. Fortunately, however, t _his_ was one occasion where Ayden actually had the authority to overrule Soran's wishes. After all, the Deturian may be royalty, but he was still a guest in their palace. The _Ithcarian_ palace—where _Ayden_ was prince. Not only the prince, but the crown prince, heir to the throne.

Ayden could go where he damn well pleased.

He straightened his shoulders and looked the man square in the eye with a quelling gaze—one he never _needed_ to use with his own men.

"I am Ayden, crown prince of Ithcar. You will let me pass."

The man's face whitened, and he looked for the world as though he were caught in between a rock and a hard place.

"I…I'm sorry, Your Highness," he said at last, his voice full of the deference it had previously lacked. "It's just…King Soran said…he said the princess was not to leave…"

"The princess will not be leaving. But I _will_ be entering. Just for a moment—for a private word with the princess."

Ayden did not give the guard a chance to refuse. He simply strode right past the man and opened the door to enter.

Raia looked up as the door opened, and Ayden saw immediately that she had been crying. Her gray eyes were red and puffy, and moisture still lingered in streaks on her cheeks. His heart clenched at the sight. Still, he took pleasure in the certainty that she was happy to see him. Raia's sad expression lightened slightly at the sight of him. The look in her eyes when she saw him—the joy, the hope, the…Ayden had to caution himself against reading too deeply into the emotion he saw reflected in her gaze.

"Svan—sorry, _Raia_." He said, his voice stumbling over the still-unfamiliar name. At Ayden's slip of the tongue, Raia's expression became uncertain, as though just remembering all the secrets still between them. Ayden stepped fully into the room and closed the door slightly behind him. He left just enough of an opening to convince the guard outside that he and Raia would not be planning her escape—though that was exactly his intention.

As Ayden approached several steps, Raia stood, wringing her hands together in her nervousness. Ayden also suspected that the princess was at a loss as to what to do without her ever-present knitting keeping her fingers busy.

He took a deep breath and blurted out exactly what was on his mind.

"You don't want to marry him!"

Ayden had meant to phrase it as a question, but it did not come out as such. Yet he did not think that his statement was false; from observing the interactions between Soran and Raia since the Deturian king's sudden arrival that afternoon, Ayden was certain that marriage with Soran was the very last thing that the Kyorian princess desired.

Raia shook her head vehemently, confirming Ayden's suspicions. He felt a brief moment of happiness, a flutter of hope.

"Then you won't!" He told her fiercely, and was immediately encouraged by the flash of hope that appeared in Raia's eyes as well. Mind racing frantically, he immediately began formulating plans for an escape. He began to pace the room, his voice a hushed whisper.

"Even as prince of Ithcar, I do not have the authority to intercede between the relations of a couple once engaged."

Raia nodded in resigned disappointment, her eyes following him as he walked up and down the room. Ayden came to a stop and faced her once more. Though his voice was low, it reflected his utter determination. "But I'll help you escape, Raia. I know this palace like the back of my hand. We can slip out, run away where Soran won't find us until it's too late."

The happiness in Raia's eyes dimmed at the mention of his idea. Ayden felt disheartened.

"What is it?" He asked her, a trifle desperately. He had left his plan purposefully ambiguous in case he had misread the signs. Yet he had believed that Raia would jump at the chance to escape Soran's grasp—and he had thought that she would be willing, even eager, to have Ayden along for the flight.

Raia did not have her chalk and slate, and so had to resort instead to using hand motions to communicate. She fluttered her hands as though they were wings. Understanding immediately, Ayden's heart sank a little.

The swans. Of course. Ayden did not comprehend Raia's utter devotion to her swans, but he knew instinctively that she would never hear of leaving them behind. And no matter how Ayden racked his brain, he could not think of any way to sneak five large and likely noisy birds out of the palace undetected. They were sure to be spotted or heard, and then they would be in the exact same situation as before.

No.

The situation would be _worse_ than before. While Ayden knew that running away with the Kyorian princess would bring no small trouble for the relationship between Ithcar and Deturus, he would be willing— _more_ than willing—to risk the difficulty if he could be sure of helping Raia out of harm's way. But being caught in the act of fleeing would be a different story; not only would the relations between the two countries suffer, but he—and Raia—would be undergoing the risk only for their plans to end in failure.

He looked at Raia sadly, and she read his response in the depths of his eyes.

"They are truly precious to you, aren't they?" Ayden asked her softly. Raia nodded, holding his gaze and placing her hand over her heart.

"Precious enough to sacrifice your own freedom?" Again, she nodded without hesitating, and he could not tell by her expression whether or not she had detected the undertone of bitterness in his voice. He winced internally on hearing it himself. Shoulders slumping slightly, he stepped closer to Raia and her hands into his own. He gazed deeply into her eyes, which reflected his own sadness and disappointment back at him.

"Then tell me, Raia." He said, his voice barely above a whisper to prevent the guard outside from eavesdropping. "I can't call a stop to the wedding. You can't—or _won't_ —escape. But is there anything— _anything_ —that I can do to help you?"

Raia's eyes searched his own desperately, as though there was something she was longing to tell him. Finally, however, she pulled her hands from his grasp and made yet another motion with her own.

Her knitting.

"You want me to bring you your knitting?" Ayden guessed, and Raia smiled slightly through the sheen of new tears. "Where did you leave it? In the gardens?"

Raia nodded, her eyes shining with emotion. Desperately, she caught at his hand again. She tapped his palm with her own, shaking her head almost frantically. Ayden took another guess.

"And…don't touch?"

Raia's fingers curled around Ayden's, and she nodded again. Twisting his hand deftly, Ayden caught Raia's in his grasp. He bent over it, kissing the back of it for the first time.

"It shall be done."


	36. Fate Chapter 35

Chapter Thirty-Five: Fate

 _Raia_

Raia was still knitting when Soran's guards arrived to fetch her the following morning just after dawn. Her eyes were bleary from lack of sleep, and her fingers were cramped and tired from the frantic pace that she had kept throughout the night. She could have kissed Soran for fetching her knitting for her the previous evening; thanks to him, Raia had been able to knit all through the night, and now the final shawl was _so_ close to being done. Three, four more rows at the most.

Raia spared a quick glance up at the door when it was opened from the outside. She could not help a sigh of relief when she saw that Soran had not accompanied his men to escort her from her room. While she was convinced that Soran would recognize the significance of her knitting and put a stop to her actions, she highly doubted that any of his men would be aware of what the shawls were intended for. It provided her with a couple more minutes at least to finally finish what she had started so many weeks—so many _months_ —before.

Raia made no argument as she was led from her room. Nor did she openly attempt to stall their progress as they walked towards the entrance hall of the Ithcarian palace, where she assumed that Soran was waiting for them. She was afraid that, were she to make too big of a scene and delay the group of them through the halls, the soldiers might cotton on and rush them all the more. Or Soran himself might get impatient and come to find them. Either way, Raia would lose what little chance she had to knit the last bit of the final shawl. She kept her eyes firmly fixed on her task, though a sense of panic slowly built in her chest as they neared their final destination.

 _Just three more rows._

A figure stood waiting in the shadows of the entrance hall. Raia's heart sank. She positioned her hands in a fruitless attempt to cover her knitting, her needles still moving frantically.

Then the figure moved, and she let out her breath in a rush. It was Ayden waiting for them, not Soran. There was still time.

Ayden stepped towards her, and she could not resist a quick glance at his face. Then her eyes dropped back to her work. The disappointment, the _pain,_ in his expression was nearly too much for her to bear. She knew that their short conversation the night before had not gone as Ayden had hoped—to say nothing of the entire situation they found themselves in. Yet still the visual proof of his disappointment felt almost like a physical blow.

"My mother extends her goodbyes." He spoke softly, his voice slightly stiff. Raia flinched at his tone, so unfamiliar to what she was used to hearing in their interactions. Perhaps he saw—and understood—her reaction, for his voice had lost some of its coldness when he next spoke.

"She regrets not being able to wish you farewell in person, but she wants you to know that you are welcome to write or to visit again should you so desire."

Raia's eyesight blurred slightly at a sudden onset of tears. She, too, wished that she could bid the Ithcarian queen farewell in person, but she knew that Soran's guards would never hear of making a detour, however short it may be. And as soon as they reached the palace courtyard, Soran would whisk her—and her swan sisters—back to Deturus. Then he would use them to lure in the final sister, and drain them all. Any thought of escape would be next to impossible.

Unless she finished the shawls.

 _Two more rows._

Raia nodded silently at Ayden's statement, though she did not meet his eyes again. She could almost feel the surprise at her reaction—or lack thereof. Yet he did not speak a word, merely following behind as the guards propelled her forward towards the entryway doors once more.

Raia spared a quick glance up as they exited the castle. Early morning sunshine shown down on the palace yard, which was bustling with men sporting Deturian armor—though on second glance, Raia realized that there were only ten, twenty men at the most. At least three times that many Ithcarian soldiers stood guard around them, along with King Naaman himself. The Ithcarian royal's face was lined in a deep frown, as though he were most displeased with what he was seeing. Raia's heart lightened slightly at the sight. Though Ithcar was still technically considered an enemy of her country, Raia knew from firsthand experience that Soran and his men posed the larger threat to _all_ of them. She was glad that King Naaman seemed at least partly cognizant of this fact.

Slightly removed from the rest of the soldiers were four of Soran's guards, standing with arms outstretched in an odd half-circle formation. Raia saw on second glance that they were surrounding five swans, and attempting to prevent the birds from scattering. Nearby stood a rather large wooden cage. With a stab of anger, she realized that the guards were herding her five feathered sisters into the cage to be transported, though the princesses were not making it easy on them. The birds bit and hissed at the guards in anger, trying to duck under their outstretched arms to escape confinement.

Soran stood watching this strange company, his hands clasped behind his back. Fear clutched at Raia's throat as the soldiers escorted her over to where he was standing. She knitted madly at the last shawl, frantic tears filling her eyes. _Just half a row more and that would be it._

Though he was facing away from them, Soran seemed to sense the presence of the new arrivals, and knew exactly who had arrived. The arrogance was evident in his voice when he spoke, yet Raia realized with no small surprise that he had chosen to address _Ayden_ first.

"I must thank you, Crown Prince," he said loftily, "For taking such excellent care of my fiancée and her… _menagerie_."

Raia felt Ayden stiffen beside her at Soran's taunt, for a taunt it most surely was.

"I assure you that the pleasure was ours." Ayden said, his voice as cold as Raia had ever heard it. "Indeed, Princess Raia may consider herself free to return should ever she desire a visit…or seek refuge."

Ayden sounded as though he were gritting the words out through his teeth, yet Raia did not glance up to witness his expression. She could not spare the time. Soran had yet to look her way, but Raia still knew that she had only seconds before his gaze would finally turn towards her. Seconds in which to finish knitting, only seconds to break her sisters' curse.

 _Just a couple more stitches_.

And then her time was up. Raia sensed, rather than saw, Soran begin to turn towards her as he addressed her at last, his voice full of malevolent triumph.

"Come, my dear, we must be on our— _what are you doing_?"

Soran's tone had changed in an instant to furious comprehension, yet Raia hardly noticed. With one last deft twist of her needle, she tied off the fifth and final shawl.

 _Done._

Raia reached into her now-bulging pillow pouch and struggled to take out the other four shawls that she had completed. Yet as she had suspected, Soran had instantly recognized what Raia's knitted shawls were meant to accomplish—and he proved faster than she. At the first sight of her knitting, he had leapt forward, grasping one firm hand onto her arm in a vice grip, his face contorted in a snarl. Raia winced at the pain as his fingers dug into her arm; she knew that the force would likely leave her with bruises the following day. She gritted her teeth and yanked away from him with all of her strength, fighting to free her arm from his grasp. She bit at her lips to refrain herself from letting out an angry cry at the persistence of his grip.

"Hey!" Ayden cried for her, shock and indignation filling his voice at Soran's seemingly sudden roughness. He started forward to pull Soran away from her, but the Deturian guards moved to block his path. Meanwhile, their outburst was slowly drawing the gaze of the other people milling around the palace yard, including King Naaman, his men…and the soldiers guarding Raia's five swans sisters.

Sensing the guards' distraction, the five swans made their move, squawking and flapping their wings violently to break free of their forced confinement. While four of the swans targeted the men surrounding them, Thaleia—dear, protective Thaleia—launched herself directly at the struggling figures of Soran and Raia. There was pure murder in the deep black eyes of the bird as she streaked past the guards, her gaze fixed on her targeted enemy. And though Thaleia was thrown back as soon as she had connected with Soran's ever-present protective bubble, her attack had not been in vain. For a second— _just a split second_ —Soran was distracted.

That second was all Raia needed.

Yanking her arm free from Soran's grasp, Raia reached deep into her pouch and pulled out the shawls of nettle yarn, knitted so painstakingly over the last several months. She did not take the time to separate the shawls from each other, but merely flung them high into the air over where her sisters stood, praying that each bunch of fabric would find its mark.

Raia's eyes followed the fluttering fabrics as they slowly descended over her swan sisters. The swans froze in place, seemingly sensing the import of the moment. Only Thaleia remained in motion, battering herself against Soran's invisible shield a second time, then a third. Raia's heart caught in her throat, and her hands rose to cover her mouth, holding back a desperate cry.

 _The shawl, Thaleia, the shawl!_

As though she had heard Raia's unspoken plea, Thaleia dove again, not at Soran, but rather towards the fifth and final shawl as it fell. She slipped under the woven fabric.

All noise seemed as though it had been suddenly stricken from the world. Then Raia's skirts swirled around her as a rushing wind filled the courtyard. The wind was followed by a luminous golden light, as though sunset and sunrise had collided at that very moment. All those in the courtyard cried out and shut their eyes against the brilliance of the flash, throwing their arms over their faces to block the glare.

And then as suddenly as it had appeared, the light had gone.

Those standing in the courtyard uncovered their eyes and glanced around once more. They let out silent exclamations of surprise. Five extra people stood exactly where the five swans had been previously. All were young women, their ages ranging from late teens to early twenties. They were all thin and gaunt, dressed in tattered rags of the highest quality material. They wobbled where they stood, their feet bare and dirty. The Ithcarian royalty and their guards gaped at the new arrivals, astounded by the suddenness of their appearance.

And then the utter silence was broken by Raia's own voice. Weak and croaked from lack of use, her voice grew stronger with every word as she pointed at Soran and yelled her accusations.

"Sorcerer! Kidnapper! Murderer! _Murderer_!"


	37. Finished Chapter 36

**Part Five: Finished**

Chapter Thirty-Six: Finished

 _Cliodne_

Following Raia's startling pronouncement, King Naaman's face darkened with a sudden anger that surprised Cliodne. The Deturian guards seemed to recognize the sudden precariousness of their situation—not to mention that of their ruler. The soldiers who had previously been guarding Raia now leapt forward to defend Soran from any who might have believed the accusations made by the Kyorian princess. This action, Cliodne realized with a smirk of satisfaction, was perhaps the worst thing that they could have adone. It all but confirmed Soran's guilt—even in the eyes of his own men.

Ayden stepped in front of Raia, his hand resting on the hilt of his sword as he regarded the Deturian royal with newfound suspicion. Soran met his gaze evenly, taking no notice of his own guards protecting him. Cliodne shivered, seeing the cold fury in his familiar blue eyes. She bunched her sisters close to her side, gathering them to her with her wings. No, her _arms_ , she reminded herself. She no longer had wings or feathers. She was free. _They_ were free.

 _But for how long?_

Not breaking his gaze with Ayden, Soran raised his voice to address King Naaman directly, his tone smooth and placating.

"It is clear that there has been some misunderstanding, Your Highness!" He called out, and Cliodne was certain that she was the only one who noticed the latent anger in his voice. "But our countries are at peace. Let us not make quarrel between us."

Kind Naaman hesitated, his arm raised in the air. Cliodne's heart caught in her throat at his apparent uncertainty. Surely after such an accusation—not to mention witnessing the astonishing transformation of birds into humans—the Ithcarian king wouldn't simply allow Soran to leave with them all?

Ayden seemed to be thinking along the same lines as she. He glanced over his shoulder, his eyes falling first on Raia standing behind him, then on the imposing figure of King Naaman.

"Father."

That one word was all it took. The king gave a decisive nod and gestured at the entire group of foreigners—Deturian and Kyorian, alike. His shouted orders filled the courtyard, voice firm and unyielding. "Guards! Take them into custody! _All_ of them! I need answers here!"

Cliodne felt a small stab of relief that she couldn't entirely explain—a relief that was clearly not shared by everyone. As the Ithcarian guards stepped forward to seize them all, Soran shouted an order that Cliodne could not make out. His intention was soon made more than clear, however, as the Deturian soldiers all over the courtyard drew their swords. Evidently, Soran was not willing to be taken without a fight. His men leapt forward to meet the Ithcarian soldiers, their blades meeting with a loud clatter.

Fear filled Cliodne's breast, and she pulled her sisters even closer to her side. All of the princesses were momentarily frozen in place, watching the skirmish with wide eyes. Were they about to witness still more bloodshed as a result of Soran's treachery?

Yet this battle was nothing like the massacre of their own retinue several months prior. Soran had come to Ithcar with the full intention of spiriting Raia and the five swans away 'peacefully'. He had clearly not anticipated needing to fight for his prize. He had not come prepared for a battle. A mere glance was enough to see that Soran's men were severely outnumbered by Ithcarian guards—not to mention outclassed. Cliodne was in awe of the skill displayed by King Naaman's soldiers, who proved to be masters at the art of disarming their opponent without killing them. Many of the Deturians' swords were taken from them within the first several minutes of fighting, leaving them alive but vulnerable.

And then it was over. Cliodne blinked at the suddenness of it all as the last of Soran's men was seized and led away. Then she gasped, her dismay immediately echoed by Raia and Callia. Both of her sisters seemed to have realized the same thing as she at the same time. Cliodne saw Raia put her hand to Ayden's sleeve, and then pointed to where Soran had previously been standing. But the Deturian royal had disappeared. The skirmish between his own men and King Naaman's guard, however short, had provided distraction enough for the Deturian royal to slip away, most likely back to the safety of his own accursed castle.

Ayden cursed, sheathing his sword once more. "Father!" He called over his shoulder. "The sorcerer has fled!"

Cliodne hid a relieved smile at his choice of words. _One_ person, at least, had taken Raia's accusations to heart.

King Naaman huffed in frustration, and then addressed the nearest of his guards. "See that he is found before he leaves Ithcar. I believe that he has much to answer for."

The soldier bowed. Gesturing for several other men to follow him, the small group hurried in the direction of the stables to gather horses for their pursuit.

The Ithcarian king huffed again, then furrowed his brows as his eyes fell on Cliodne and her sisters. Cliodne straightened her shoulders, and met King Naaman's gaze head-on, willing regality in her stance despite her unfortunate state of dress. For the first time, Raia stepped out from her place behind Ayden, joining the other Kyorian princesses. As one, the six princesses curtseyed deeply to the Ithcarian king. With one hand, Cliodne held her tattered skirt with practiced fingers as she bent. The other hand she used to steady Thaleia by the shoulder, who still seemed a bit unsteady on her newly human legs.

Glancing up once more, Cliodne was certain that she saw King Naaman's eyes soften slightly. She bulked up her courage to address the Ithcarian ruler, yet Raia was the first to speak.

"King Naaman. Prince Ayden." She said, nodding towards first the former, then the latter. Cliodne noticed that her voice was even softer than usual from its lack of use over the last several months. "Please allow me to present my sisters to you."

Comprehension immediately filled Ayden's face as he looked over the five of them, with their ragged clothes and bare feet. Again, the princesses curtseyed and again, Cliodne steadied Thaleia to her right as they rose. Raia opened her mouth to offer more polite platitudes or even to begin explaining their situation, but she did not have the chance to speak. The sound of a single trumpet erupted from the guard tower at the palace gates, and King Naaman's face registered satisfaction at the signal.

"At last." He muttered as an aside to Ayden. "We will have answers from all."

Ayden made no response, and Cliodne doubted that he had even heard his father at all. His eyes were fixed on Raia as though determined to catch her eye. Yet Raia seemed just as determined to avoid his gaze. She kept her head lowered.

King Naaman waved yet another of his men forward and gestured to the Kyorian princesses. "Show them to the west corridor chamber. And for heaven's sake, give them something to wear, and to eat."

Though her stomach growled in response at his words, Cliodne was nevertheless surprised. Did the king not want to hear their story? Yet she made no argument as the Ithcarian guards stepped towards her and her sisters. Both Petra and Eurielle seemed inclined to protest the king's orders, and Cliodne flashed them a warning look. She would not have put it past either of them to attempt to fight their way out, but resistance would most certainly not help their case at the moment. Thaleia, on the other hand, seemed unnaturally lethargic, and Cliodne felt a stab of concern for her sister. It was most unlike her.

Yet they were given no time for further worry. The six princesses were led immediately back into the Ithcarian palace and to Raia's old bedchamber. As the chamber door was closed behind them to shut them in once more, the distant trumpet sounded again.


	38. Finished Chapter 37

Chapter Thirty-Seven: Finished

 _Callia_

Callia let out an exasperated sigh as the bedchamber door was closed behind them. Petra's voice was dry as she voiced exactly what Callia had been thinking.

"Locked in. Again. _Fabulous_."

Raia let out a small squeak of what might have been laughter. She stood, trembling, in the middle of the room and simply stared around at them all. Her eyes were full of unshed tears as she drank in the sight of her newly-human sisters. She seemed unable to take her eyes off of all of them, though also strangely reticent to touch any of them. It was as though she thought that the slightest brush of her fingers might reinstate the curse that she had only just broken.

Callia lowered herself to sit on the edge of Raia's bed. Her legs felt as though they were made of jelly following the transformation, and she welcomed the opportunity to rest them. Eurielle collapsed down beside her, rubbing her knee through the rags of her once-beautiful dress.

Callia marveled that the rest of her sisters did not feel the need to sit as well. Raia, of course, she could partly understand, seeing as how _she_ was the only one of them who had not just transformed back into a human after spending months as a bird. But Cliodne, Thaleia and Petra did not seek to sit, either. As if in a trance, Thaleia walked to the corner of the room, where she stood partly in the shadows. Cliodne, on the other hand, seemed overtaken with the opposite urge to _move_ , and began pacing in small circles around the room.

"I don't understand. Why doesn't he want to see us immediately? Why not have us explain now?" She muttered under her breath. Yet though she seemed to be addressing herself, Callia answered her question all the same.

"Well, we do look a bit worse for the wear." She said, her voice reasonable. "A little food and a change of clothes won't delay explanations too long."

"If they ever bring them to us." Petra said, turning to face the closed door and giving it a solid kick.

As if on cue, the door opened almost immediately following Petra's blow, causing the Kyorian princess to stumble back in surprise. A servant entered the chamber, her arms full of neatly folded articles of clothing of all colors. Her eyes were brimming with avid curiosity, but she had clearly been sent on very strict orders to deliver her load and leave. Seeing Callia and Eurielle sitting on the bed, she deposited the armful of clothing on the dressing table. Then the servant exited the room once more, glancing back regretfully at the six princesses before closing the door behind her.

The sound of the door locking seemed to snap all of the princesses out of their momentary surprise. Eurielle stumbled to her feet to examine the clothing brought to them. Her eyes sparkled slightly as she held up a garment made of a shocking pink fabric.

"Ooh, these are pretty!" She said, a hint of surprise in her tone.

Callia smiled. "I wouldn't care if they were the ugliest clothes in the world. Anything's better than _this_." She plucked at her ruined dress.

Cliodne and Petra both moved to select a change of clothes. Even Raia stepped forward as well, though she was not in need of new garments. Only Thaleia remained where she was in the very corner of the room. Callia saw Raia grab the first dress she touched without even looking at it, bringing it over to where her twin stood almost entirely hidden in the shadows. If possible, Thaleia shrank even further at Raia's approach.

Callia heard a horrified gasp.

Dropping the garment she held, Callia hurried over to the corner where the two twins stood. Both of Raia's hands covered her mouth. Her eyes, wide with shock, were fixed on Thaleia's side.

Thaleia clutched the rags of her dress close to her left side as though stemming blood from a wound. Callia felt a moment's panic. Had she been injured, stabbed perhaps, by one of Soran's soldiers?

And then Thaleia turned slightly. Callia caught the briefest glimpse of white feathers before the rags of Thaleia's dress hid it once more. Callia gasped as a terrible thought struck her. Stretching out a trembling hand, she brushed aside the tattered fabric. She let out a low moan. Thaleia's left arm was not an arm at all, but a swan's wing.

Drawn by Callia's moan as she had been by Raia's gasp, the other sisters joined the three standing in the shadows. A shocked silence filled the chamber as they all stared in horror at Thaleia's wing, hanging in lieu of her left arm.

Eurielle broke the silence. "Your arm. It didn't change back?"

Thaleia's voice trembled slightly when she responded. "I…I couldn't pull it under the shawl in time."

"Thaleia," Callia started, but then stopped. She didn't know what to say. There wasn't anything she _could_ say. Nothing in any of her books or stories had ever taught her to deal with a situation such as this.

Thaleia glanced down at her wing, giving Callia the distinct impression that she was attempting to avoid all of their gazes. When she spoke again, she sounded slightly defiant, though the tremor was still evident in her voice.

"I mean, at least it's my left arm, right? I can still hold a sword."

At last, Raia spoke, though she too seemed to have trouble articulating what she wanted to say.

"But," she said, her voice thick with unshed tears. "But if you hadn't—if I had just—"

Thaleia's head shot up and she looked directly at Raia. "I don't regret it." She said fiercely. "Not a jot. Not one bit. You needed me. I came." Her eyes reflected the sincerity of her words.

Tears streamed freely down Raia's face as she threw her arms around her twin sister's neck. Thaleia hesitated but a second before raising her mismatched appendages and returning the ferocious hug.

"I'll always come when you need me." Callia heard Thaleia mumble, her voice muffled. "That's what sisters do."

Eurielle sniffled and flung her arms around both of her sisters as well, her hand whacking Petra on the side of the head in her enthusiasm.

"Hey!" Petra complained. She rubbed the spot in annoyance, though Callia was almost certain that the glimmer of moisture in her eyes was not due to the pain of the blow.

Thaleia managed a wobbly smile, extracting herself from the hug and wiping her eyes with the back of her right hand.

"Besides," she said, glancing around at all of the princesses, though still while addressing Raia. "If it weren't for you, we _all_ would have wings instead of arms. And more besides."

Callia nodded in agreement, and she was far from the only one to do so. Though previously so tongue-tied, all of the sisters now found themselves eager to thank Raia enthusiastically, congratulating her on the success of their endeavor—even a _partial_ success. Raia's cheeks burned at the praise, and she pursed her lips in embarrassment.

"I—" She started, then all of the words she wanted to say seemed to tumble out of her at once. "I'm just _so_ sorry it took so long!" She wailed.

Eurielle grabbed onto Raia's statement with relish. "And all that time without you able to speak a single word, or make a sound at all! Not to sneeze or laugh or say 'bless you' or 'please' or 'thank you' or…or…or _anything_!"

Callia and Cliodne both smiled as the youngest princess caught her breath. It seemed to Callia as though Eurielle were determined to make up for _all_ of the sisters' silence over the last several months in the course of only a couple of minutes.

"I mean," Eurielle continued, her voice filled with awe as she patted Raia's shoulder. "I really just don't know how you managed it, Raia. I don't think I could have done it!"

At that, Thaleia could not help a laugh, however strangled it sounded. Petra raised her eyebrows in mock surprise. Her voice was deadpan when she spoke.

"You don't say."


	39. Finished Chapter 38

Chapter Thirty-Eight: Finished

 _Thaleia_

The hardest part thus far, Thaleia decided, about having a wing instead of an arm—aside from the simple fact that _she had a wing instead of an arm_ —was how complicated it made the task of getting dressed. Not to mention how humiliating.

Of the dresses provided them, only one had armholes big enough for Thaleia to fit her wing through. Even then, it took help from both Raia _and_ Cliodne to settle the fabric over her shoulder so that it did not pull uncomfortably on her feathers. What was more, Thaleia needed their help again when it came to fastening her dress. She found it absolutely impossible to do up her buttons one-handed, though this was not from lack of trying. She twisted and turned her one human arm every which way, but to no avail. All she was able to accomplish on her own was to gain a sore shoulder in the attempt.

"Don't worry, Thaleia." Cliodne told her as she tied the sash of Thaleia's gown. "Once we're home, we'll figure out a way to customize your clothes so you'll be able to do this on your own. Right, Raia?"

Raia nodded thoughtfully, her brow furrowed in concentration as she examined the gown that Thaleia had just donned. She cocked her head and huffed, exasperated. "If I only had a needle and thread, I think I could do it now!"

"No need." Cliodne said, knotting the sash with a flourish. "All done."

Thaleia looked down at her feathered appendage and flexed her muscles. Her wing arced gracefully, but Thaleia still found it very hard to reconcile herself to the thought that this part was attached to her. _Permanently_.

"The short sleeves won't make it easy to hide your feathers." Eurielle mused, her tone doubtful.

Thaleia shrugged, and then straightened her shoulders defiantly.

"I won't need to hide them." She said. "It's a part of me now. And I'll show it off… _proudly_."

Thaleia knew that all of her sisters must have noticed her slight hesitation, but none remarked on it. Cliodne placed a hand on her right shoulder and squeezed it in silent encouragement.

Once the princesses were dressed, they did not have much longer to wait before the bedchamber door opened once more. A servant—one whom Thaleia actually recognized from her time as a swan—entered the room, bowing deeply to the princesses. His eyes widened when he caught sight of Thaleia's wing, but he quickly mastered his expression. When he spoke, he addressed himself almost solely to Raia, and Thaleia remembered with a jolt that her twin both knew and was known by the Ithcarians much more than she or any of the other sisters.

"Milady, the king has summoned all of you to the throne room."

"But I thought we were going to eat first!" Thaleia heard Eurielle complain to Petra in a low hiss. Cliodne shushed her, yet Thaleia could not help but agree with her youngest sister. At that moment, she felt hungry enough to eat a whole horse, cow, _and_ pig besides.

"Thank you, Jhonatan." Raia said, wringing her hands nervously in front of her. "We will follow you directly."

Jhonatan bowed again and led the way out of the room. The six sisters followed, and were immediately flanked in the hallway by several Ithcarian guards. Thaleia glanced out the corner of her eyes at the members of their sudden escort. She counted only four men guarding the six of them, and was momentarily confused—not to mention a bit indignant. Did King Naaman think so little of them that he did not even consider them challenge enough for a guard apiece? Then Thaleia remembered the skill that the Ithcarian guards had displayed in the courtyard when dispatching Soran's men. Added to that was the fact that she and her sisters were unarmed and still weak following their ordeal. However much she hated to admit it, Thaleia realized that in light of their situation, even four of King Naaman's men probably would be more than enough guards to escort the six princesses to the throne room without incident.

The six princesses fell into their normal positions on entering the throne room, lining up by age from eldest to youngest. Cliodne led the way, her chin raised gracefully. Thaleia recognized the look in her eyes. She knew that her older sister was ready to employ every bit of diplomacy she'd gained over the last three years in order to ensure all of the princesses' safe return to Kyoria.

Yet a surprise was waiting for them in the throne room. King Naaman and Prince Ayden both stood on the dais talking to a man with gray-streaked auburn hair and beard. Even from afar, the man was instantly recognizable to all of the princesses.

Thaleia gasped, and unbidden tears sprang into her eyes.

"Father!" she cried out, forgetting all decorum. She hiked her dress above her ankles with her right hand and rushed forward madly, Eurielle beside her and the other princesses not far behind. Thaleia launched herself into her father's arms, nearly knocking him over with her exuberance. Her mismatched appendages encircled his body in a mighty hug, and she heard the Ithcarian royals behind him gasp at the sight of her swan wing. Yet Thaleia could not bring herself to care. None of them—not even Petra—could refrain from shedding at least a few tears at the unexpected sight of their father in the Ithcarian royal palace. Gustave's eyes were wet as well as he touched all of his daughters' heads in turn.

"But how?" Cliodne asked, her voice choked.

It was King Naaman who answered. "Your father is here as Kyorian ambassador. We are meant to sign a peace treaty between Ithcar and Kyoria."

Thaleia's eyes widened, and the utter shock of the news—however welcome—seemed to have dried all her tears.

"A treaty?" Raia's voice was low as she addressed her query not to King Naaman or even her father, but to Ayden. He nodded in confirmation, and Thaleia noticed the way his eyes softened when he looked at her twin. She felt a small hint of panic, which grew even more on seeing a similar expression reflected on Raia's face.

King Naaman raised his eyebrows and looked directly at Raia when he spoke.

"Though I must add that _your_ presence here in Ithcar almost halted the negotiations outright. The revelation of your identity last night was…shall I say, most… _suspicious_."

Thaleia bristled at the king's words, but Raia did not seem to take even the slightest offense. She curtseyed to the Ithcarian royal. "I apologize for the subterfuge, Your Highness," she said, her voice calm yet rueful. "I felt it to be necessary at the time."

King Naaman's gaze left Raia and fell on her sisters.

"I have my suspicions why that could be." He mused, his eyes lingering on Thaleia's white wing. "But I must admit to being curious as to the whole story."

"I think we all are." Ayden interjected pointedly, and King Naaman nodded at him.

"But," he continued. "I believe that this story and all other explanations can just as well be told over lunch."

Thaleia felt herself getting teary-eyed once more at the offer of food. Eating like a bird for the last several months had done nothing to abate her appetite; on the contrary, she felt as hungry as she could ever remember feeling before.

King Naaman clapped his hands twice, and a slew of servants entered the throne room. While most carried platters filled with cold meats, cheeses and fruit, several of the workers brought in low stools for the guests to sit on. It was a most peculiar form of dining that Thaleia had not yet experienced. Still, she found no reason to complain. Indeed, she sighed with relief upon seeing the kinds of food on the trays; all looked relatively easy to eat using only one hand.

"I apologize for the eclectic picnic." King Naaman told them, likewise accepting a low stool in order to eat among them. "Our normal dining table is not quite large enough, and our chef unprepared to accommodate seven royal guests—five of whom are entirely unexpected."

Though simple, the fare was delicious. Giving his daughters time to enjoy their meal, Gustave took to explaining his sudden arrival in Ithcar prior to pressing them for their story.

"We have been negotiating peace since before you all left for Deturus." He told them. "Though in secret at the start, in case negotiations proved unsuccessful." He glanced at the Ithcarian king, and King Naaman nodded once. Gustave continued.

"We agreed to terms just over a month ago and as mentioned, I've come to sign. I've only just arrived this morning, and from what I've already heard, I clearly missed an… _interesting_ display just prior to my arrival."

"In truth," Gustave said with a rather heavy sigh, "I'm getting a bit old for these kinds of trips, but our official ambassador," He touched Cliodne's head of curls once more, "was unavailable at the time. Enjoying herself in Deturus—or so I'd assumed."

The princesses stopped eating at that, glancing down at their plates as though they had all suddenly lost their appetites.

"But clearly," Ayden interjected softly, finishing Gustave's thought. "That was not entirely the case."

"Yes," Gustave continued, eying his daughters with great concern. "Imagine my surprise when I was immediately greeted upon arriving here at the palace with an interrogation as to why my daughters were also here…and in secret!"

The Ithcarian king did not so much as blink. "As I said, most suspicious." Naaman said, popping a marinated olive into his mouth. He swallowed. "Though from your father's account, combined with the testimonies of the Deturian guards we have taken into custody _and_ the events of this morning, I believe that I have developed a reasonable suspicion as to what may have transpired to lead us all here. Now, all that remains," he said, eyebrows rising as he looked down at the six princesses expectantly. "Is to determine whether or not my suspicions are correct."

Out of the corner of her eye, Thaleia noticed her father and several of her sisters shoot a quick glance at her wing. Then Cliodne cleared her throat and—responding to King Naaman's implicit request—began to recount their story.


	40. Finished Chapter 39

Chapter Thirty-Nine: Finished

 _Raia_

A shocked silence greeted them all upon the completion of Cliodne's tale.

"Incredible." King Naaman said, shaking his head, and Raia knew from the tone of his voice that he did not mean the word to be a compliment.

Ayden agreed with his father, saying, "I would find it a hard story to believe, if not for—" he broke himself off as he caught Raia's eye. He made to gesture towards Thaleia's feathered remnant of the curse, then changed the motion to one that encompassed all of the princesses together, rather than simply the one who still sported feathers. "—the evidence." He finished lamely.

Gustave needed several minutes before he could contain his anger enough to respond rationally. "It is certainly troubling." He said through gritted teeth. Raia smiled at the vast effort he was making to remain calm. Gustave had always been rather overprotective as a parent, but in this situation, he had a legitimate reason for being furious with Soran. Sadness mingled with the anger in his expression. "And Einor was a close ally. And a friend."

"I had never met him." King Naaman said. "But I knew of him as a wise ruler. We had no quarrel with Deturus while he was king."

"And now?" Thaleia all but snapped, and her tone was far sharper with the king than Raia knew was wise. After all, the peace treaty had not yet been signed by either royal, and it was still entirely possible that the wrong word might yet lay waste to all their father's negotiations. Cliodne looked at Thaleia reproachfully, but King Naaman merely looked thoughtful.

"Now?" he repeated, responding to her question rather than her antagonism. "Now, I fear the new king of Deturus may seek quarrel with us all if something is not done."

The thought of taking proactive action seemed to have calmed King Gustave's anger more than anything else. His arguments sounded quite rational when he next spoke, addressing King Naaman. "He has committed crimes against my country and yours, as well as his own, using dark sorcery to gain power against even his allies." Gustave pounded his fist against one knee in emphasis. "This cannot be ignored."

"And it won't be." Ayden assured him them all swiftly, responding for his father before Naaman had a chance to reply. "This is a matter that must be brought before the Council of Kings."

The Ithcarian king looked long and hard at his son, then clasped his hands and nodded.

"And so it shall be." Naaman agreed.

Raia gave a half-hearted sigh at the consensus. The Council of Kings was surely the best possible avenue towards ensuring that Soran was not left to his own devices to plot against them…or anyone else either, for that matter. Yet though Raia wanted Soran to get what was coming to him, her heart nevertheless sank at the thought that such an action might lead to more complications—or even war—with Deturus. And then there was the question of the amount of time that it would take to pursue such a course.

"Father," she said slowly, as though weighing her words carefully. "Will we be required to give testimony before the Council?"

King Gustave hesitated, but then shook his head. "At some point, yes, you will be asked to give testimony as to your ordeal." He told them. "But for now, a letter to the council will suffice to get the ball rolling. A _strongly-worded_ letter." He emphasized.

King Naaman agreed. "Addressed from _both_ of our kingdoms—united for the first time in decades—the Council will not disregard the seriousness of the issue."

Gustave nodded in gratitude at the Ithcarian king's words. " _And_ ," he added, looking around at his daughters. "For the moment, the only thing that you will be immediately required to do is _rest_. If I'm not mistaken, our new peace treaty will be ready to sign in but a few days. But if you prefer—and if our host does not object to the idea—we need not travel home immediately after the treaty has been signed. We can wait a couple days more, or even a couple weeks, so that you have more time to prepare yourselves for the journey home. Whenever you are ready."

Raia's gaze locked with Ayden's for a long moment, and she barely heard King Naaman confirming the invitation for them to stay. Yet when she finally broke eye contact, a mere glance around at her sisters' faces was enough to tell her what their response would be. Tears in her eyes, Thaleia answered for them all.

"Daddy," she said in a softer voice than she was wont to use. She wiped at the moisture on her face with her wing. "Daddy, I just want to go home."


	41. Finished Chapter 40

Chapter Forty: Finished

 _Ayden_

Several days later, Ayden stepped into the gardens and walked down the well-known path towards the pond. He felt a hint of relief when he came into view of the water. There was only one figure sitting in their standard place on the bench.

 _Raia_.

While Ayden would never have dreamed of reinstating the swan curse on Raia's sisters, he could not deny that having them around in human form made it more complicated to get an audience alone with Raia before their departure. Not to mention adding King Gustave's presence into the mix. _He_ made it downright impossible.

Yet at that moment, Ayden knew for a fact that the rest of the Kyorian royal party were readying themselves for their journey back to Kyoria that day. King Gustave was overseeing the packing up of their carriage, and Ayden had counted at least four of the princesses milling around in the courtyard as well, though he could not tell their names. While the women all looked and acted very different from one another, Ayden had quite simply become too accustomed to them in their swan forms. He had thus far found it difficult, even overwhelming, to learn the princesses apart from each other in their human forms—aside from Raia, of course. Ayden did not think it likely that he would ever confuse _her_ with any of her sisters—even her twin.

A mere glance around the courtyard had been enough for Ayden to realize that Raia was not milling among the other members of her family. Somehow, Ayden had known that he would find her in the gardens one last time. And here she was. Raia did not turn to look at him as he sat down beside her on the bench. She kept her gaze firmly fixed on the reflective surface of the pond, now empty of its former avian inhabitants. For a long moment, neither spoke. Then Raia broke the silence.

"About that night—" she began, and Ayden knew instinctively to which night she was referring: the night that Soran had arrived, when Ayden had all but suggested that they run away—together. The night that she had turned him down, refused him so that she could stay with her swans.

No. With her _sisters_.

"I know." Ayden said, interrupting her before she could do anything so foolish as to apologize. If anything, he felt that of the two of them, _he_ surely had more reason to apologize than she did. He hadn't believed her story when she'd initially tried to tell it. He'd laughed it off as a joke or a fairy tale that she had invented. Oh, how wrong he had been!

Ayden shifted on the bench slightly. "And…that one afternoon…" he started to say. But this time, Raia interrupted him.

"I know." She said matter-of-factly, the tone of her voice sounding throaty. Just as Ayden had yet to get used to Raia's sisters as humans instead of swans, he had also not yet become entirely accustomed to actually hearing Raia speak. While it felt like a special treat every time he heard the sound of her voice, he still found himself itching to write messages to her as they had done before, when he had believed her to be mute.

Raia cleared her throat and then looked at him for the first time. "So you know," she said, her words mushing together as she rushed to get them all out at once. "I just need to stay with my sisters…for now. Just for now."

Ayden looked into her gray eyes. His heart clenched—a feeling that had slowly become more and more familiar in the time since he had met her. He nodded, his eyes softening. "I understand." He told Raia. Ayden hesitated before saying rather reluctantly, "It seemed as though they were all about ready in the courtyard."

Raia nodded and rose to her feet, glancing around the Ithcarian gardens one last time. The two of them walked silently back down the garden path towards the castle doors, making their way to the entryway and into the front courtyard.

The other members of the Kyorian royal family were gathered in a cluster at the bottom of the palace stairs. King Gustave had already mounted his horse, while the other five princesses stood waiting their turn to climb into the spacious Kyorian carriage. King Naaman stood regally off to the side, inclining his head politely as each princess embarked. With a jolt of surprise, Ayden saw that his mother, Queen Melani, was also present to see the Kyorian royal party off on their journey. She sat in a wheeled chair beside her husband with the ever-present Jhonatan standing behind her.

Ayden and Raia appeared at the top of the palace steps, drawing the gaze of nearly all of those gathered in the courtyard. One of Raia's sisters broke away from the rest and mounted the stairs towards them. Ayden could not help but recognize and identify Thaleia from the rest of the sisters. Not only was she was Raia's twin, she had also been the sole princess left with a feathery remnant of the swan curse. The fabric of her cape did not quite cover the feathers of her left arm, making the feature almost impossible to miss

"There you are!" Thaleia exclaimed, slowing down as she approached the two of them. "I was just about to come find you." While she spoke to the both of them, Ayden knew that she was mostly addressing her sister. Thaleia glanced at Ayden quickly before asking Raia, her tone serious, "Are you coming?"

Raia nodded affirmatively, and Thaleia's face filled with noticeable relief. She looked again at Ayden, and her expression was slightly friendlier than it had been mere moments before. "Keep in touch, Ayden." She told him in complete sincerity. "Really. We won't bite. _Anymore_ , at least."

An impish light filled her eyes at this joke. Ayden could not help but remember the many bites he had received from the sisters when they had yet been swans. In fact, he highly suspected Thaleia to have been the most likely culprit for the majority of those injuries, though he had yet to inquire as to whether his suspicions were correct. He nodded at Thaleia with a small smile, and the Kyorian princess scampered back down the stairs towards the carriage. Raia followed her twin more slowly, descending the stairs to meet the Ithcarian royal couple at the bottom. Ayden followed her slight figure with his eyes before walking down the steps to join her.

He reached the bottom just as Raia was saying her goodbyes to his parents. She curtsied respectfully to King Naaman, then crouched slightly and enveloped Queen Melani in a gentle hug. Finally, she turned at last towards Ayden, and Ayden knew that the time had come for them to say their goodbyes as well.

He hesitated slightly before pulling out a small slate and chalk from the inside pocket of his vest. Ayden scrawled a short message on the slate with the bit of chalk, and then held it up so that Raia might read the words, as _she_ had done countless times over the past several weeks to communicate with _him_.

 _May I write?_

Raia smiled on reading the short message. Without responding, she took the slate and chalk from Ayden, erasing what he'd written in order to write her own response.

 _Of course._

Ayden reclaimed the materials once more to pen another question.

 _And will you write back?_

"Every time." Raia said out loud, holding his gaze. She spoke at a volume only just above a whisper, as though trying to ensure that he would be the only one to hear her, though his parents stood but a few steps away at most. _Her_ father was even closer, if that was possible—a fact that made Ayden rather nervous. Still, Ayden felt a distinct feeling of relief at her confirmation, however shy Raia seemed to be in giving it. This was not to be their goodbye—at least, not their _final_ goodbye. They would write each other. They would keep in touch, and possibly even arrange a visit. Ayden felt rather hopeful at the thought.

Raia drew a deep breath and stepped up on her toes, brushing Ayden's cheek lightly with her lips. "Goodbye," she whispered in his ear. Then, cheeks flushed at her own daring, she turned hastily away from him and climbed into the Kyorian royal carriage with her other sisters.

The door closed behind her. King Gustave inclined his head towards them all once more before nudging his mount forward. The Kyorian carriage rolled after him towards the palace gates. Ayden watched it until all traces of the carriage—and of Raia inside—had disappeared completely from view.

Once the carriage was gone, Ayden turned to his parents. A hint of a smile played around Queen Melani's mouth, as though she already knew exactly what he was planning to say.

"You must excuse me, Mother, Father." Ayden said to them, bowing deeply. "I have a letter to write."


	42. Epilogue

**Epilogue**

 _Dear Ayden,_

 _First of all, I have been asked to thank you (again) for the rhaita you sent for Eurielle last month. I know that I've already passed along her thanks in my last three letters, but she still insists that I include it again here. She practices on it almost constantly, and has already mastered three new songs in the last week alone. What's more, the songs are now becoming recognizable to more than just her. I must admit that this is certainly a welcome change for the rest of us—particularly Petra. On a related note, Petra has stopped threatening your life under her breath, so I think it is now safe for you to write to her yourself and apologize for inadvertently disturbing her. After all this, I imagine you've well and truly learned your lesson about giving away musical instruments on a whim. Believe me when I tell you that Eurielle's joy isn't quite worth risking Petra's wrath._

 _We are all well here, though some of us are a little more well-rested than others. Nearly everyone is feeling some sleepless nights, all thanks to the lovely set of lungs that my new nephew has recently learned to use. Eralie and Ty have it the worst of course, seeing as how they are the ones having to get up to appease the baby. Poor Eralie had bags under her eyes all day yesterday after a particularly bad night. I have taken to watching baby James for a couple hours during the day so that they can rest, but they never actually do. Too many tasks require their attention ever since Father abdicated, though he does still try to help out where he can. In the meantime, I must admit to immensely enjoying the extra time with my nephew. He is sitting up on his own now, and he always smiles when he sees me—and Thaleia as well, of course._

 _All continues to go quite well with the transition of kingship. It had been in the works for a while as I've mentioned before, so Eralie and Ty were well prepared for the change, even with the added responsibility of a newborn on top of it all. Cliodne is sure that another month or two will be all that is required to get things completely under control. Eurielle and Callia are still quite disappointed that the coronation was not a larger affair than it was. I am too, to be perfectly honest, though I understand the difficulty a larger event would have raised. I highly doubt our illustrious six-month-old prince would have appreciated having his naptime disturbed by trumpet fanfare, even if it were for his parents. Still, it is not out of the question that a larger event might come to pass in the near future as a belated celebration, though I will surely let you know by letter long before we send out the official invitations._

 _I would not dare to tell anyone but you, but I believe Father thinks that he chose the wrong time to step down. He has mentioned feeling guilty for adding to Ty and Eralie's load, though I suspect a large part of him simply misses being king—particularly now that the council of kingdoms has finally intervened in Deturus. Again, we thank you and your illustrious parents for your aid in that endeavor. Though I will not pretend to completely understand the strategy myself, Thaleia assures me that your support was invaluable in blockading the Deturian palace and deposing Soran. Had Father still been king at the time of Soran's sentencing, I feel certain that he would have advocated a harsher punishment than banishment—and Thaleia and Petra would likely have agreed with him. The rest of us, however, fully support the decision made by Eralie and Ty on behalf of the council. Callia and Cliodne both think the ruling lenient but necessary; neither hold with Thaleia and Petra's thought that Soran should have been put to death, and I admit the mere idea of such a punishment still turns my stomach. Surely lifetime banishment from every kingdom in the council will force Soran far enough from any mischief that he could possibly cause again? Please feel free to tell me if you feel I am naïve in this, but I choose to be optimistic._

 _Even if Soran were to return, Cliodne at least is determined not to be taken by surprise a second time. She has been spending even more time in the library than Callia lately, searching for any information that she can find about the Faerie realm. She has even begun corresponding with magical scholars in some of our ally nations, and has now accrued a great number of notes on the topic. I haven't yet dared ask what she has discovered; I have no desire to toy with such forces again, though I suppose knowing more about the subject might prove useful in recognizing and avoiding practitioners like Soran. Still, I prefer to leave the researching to Clio and Callia. My hands still remember the ache of incessant knitting all too well._

 _As I mentioned in my last letter, Thaleia has been worrying me lately; she's been quiet—almost depressed—about her limitations. But I'm happy to say that the suggestion you made in your last letter has already improved things in that end; Thaleia was thrilled at your offer of arranging private sword fighting lessons for her with an Ithcarian master. She has been in awe of your countrymen's skill with a blade ever since we witnessed it last autumn, and is already eager to begin. It is good to see her enthusiasm return, so thank you for that as well. You have a sixth sense about exactly what makes all of my sisters—and me—smile._

 _Which brings me now to the response I know you are waiting to hear. In answer to the question you asked in your previous letter: write to Father. His answer, I am sure, will be yes. As is mine._

 _Yours forever and always,_

 _Raia_


End file.
